


press # for the beast

by Euna



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Felix is a cringe lord, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Minor Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor Sylvain/Linhardt, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Annette/Felix, Past Dimitri/Dedue, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator Dimitri, This is a love story I promise, minor claude/felix, other characters not mentioned in tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euna/pseuds/Euna
Summary: Because sometimes the best way to find true love is to have a lot of awful phone sex with a stranger.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 611
Kudos: 569





	1. felix makes a fucky wucky

**Author's Note:**

> so remember that tangent thread on twitter...
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Special notes: # = pound, * = star ;)

The dumbest thing Felix Hugo Fraldarius has ever done is decide to work for his father while he tries to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life.

The second dumbest thing has to be that time he went white water rafting by himself in the Airmid river without a lifejacket, fell into the water, and nearly drowned. 

And the third is probably whatever he's about to do right now.

It goes without saying that everyone does stupid shit. Everyone makes mistakes in their lives. It also just so happens that sometimes these mistakes can have life-altering consequences. 

Felix doesn't expect this to be one of those cases, though, but he will be wrong about this.

So very, _very_ wrong.

Felix's first mistake is letting his pride get in the way of his rational thinking capabilities.

*

"Why am I doing this again?" Felix asks absolutely nobody. 

Sylvain, one of Felix's best friends since spandex shorts were still a thing (bonded at the tender age of five and seven respectfully over Felix's impressive Legos he stole from his brother, and Sylvain's extensive Hot Wheels collection), and also the one responsible for what _this_ is, answers him with a wink and a lopsided grin.

Felix stares back at him, cellphone gripped tightly in his hand as he contemplates every decision he's ever made in his life that has led up to this moment. 

It started with agreeing to come to Sylvain's place after work for drinks, as it usually did. But then, somehow, ended with them playing a game of truth or dare like they were back in highschool, after they got tired of Netflix and steadily became more and more intoxicated.

 _It's just a stupid dare,_ Felix tells himself for the fifth time. _Get your shit together_.

With a grimace, Felix looks down at the filthy ad currently open on his phone. 

A description of the advertisement in question is as follows:

A buff, shirtless twenty-something year old man slathered in body oil with his dick bulge hanging over the open crotch of his jeans. Along the side of the ad is loopy cursive writing Felix doesn't bother reading and a telephone number in big, bold font with exclamations to 'click here!' and some arrows pointing to it. It's tacky as hell, but somehow it's still not the worst ad on the site they could find.

 _There's no way that dick is real_ , Felix thinks. It's probably photoshopped to look bigger than it is because the guy is fucking _hung_. No face though, which is kind of weird, but not unexpected considering it's an ad for a sex hotline.

Felix briefly wonders if it's his or Sylvain's preferences Sylvain had in mind when browsing the ad listings. But _only_ briefly. He really doesn't need to know more about Sylvain's sex life than he already does, and Felix doesn't have a type of his own if he's being quite honest.

He stares at the number at the bottom corner as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

"Just do it already…" Sylvain drawls, idly swinging their shared bottle of rum by the neck between his thumb and two fingers. "Come _on_ , Felix. What's taking you so long? The longer you wait the worse it is."

Right. 

"Don't rush me," Felix says.

"Who's rushing you? It's been like ten minutes!"

Felix thinks these services are all a scam. They're designed to steal your credit card and personal information as you rub one out to some stranger, who doesn't give two fucks about you, feeding you crap like: " _You feel so good_ ," or, " _You're so big_." Or worse still: " _You're the best fuck I've had all day_ —"

"Whatever. I'm concentrating."

"On _what?"_

— as if every line isn't rehearsed, and behind the bullshit there isn't someone rolling their eyes while playing Sudoku, folding laundry, making lunch, or performing some other mundane everyday task.

"None of your business."

Or at least, that's what he imagines it's like, he's never called one before. Sylvain has because Sylvain is the type of guy who would willingly pay someone to step all over his dick. Meanwhile, the idea of giving a stranger money to stroke his ego makes Felix want to retch.

He can think of a thousand other ways he would spend those funds, not the least of which is buying a year's supply of food and pet supplies and hauling up in his apartment with his cats so he doesn't have to speak to or see anyone ever again.

But that's because he hates his job, and because he kind of hates his life, too.

"This is stupid," Felix mutters out loud. "And anyone lonely and desperate enough to use this service deserves to get scammed."

"You know," Sylvain starts, "you're pretty lonely and despera— _ow!"_

Felix is neither lonely, nor is he desperate. He's perfectly fine as he is, thank you.

Sylvain rubs his rib cage. "What the hell, man…" he whines. It's total pomp and circumstance. Felix didn't elbow him that hard. 

"You're fine," Felix says. "I doubt you even felt that."

"No, but you still hurt my feelings," Sylvain replies in a dejected voice. "This stuff tastes like serious ass, by the way…" Sylvain's face twists as he takes a swig from the bottle, vigorously shaking his head after he swallows. "Ugh...awful. Where'd you get it?"

"Liquor store. Ass doesn't taste like anything. Give that to me." Felix takes his own drink from the bottle before handing it back. The bouquet floods his nose with a smell like gasoline and it burns in a bad way all the way down. It's _shit_ but it was also cheap, and Felix isn't exactly a rich bitch right now. 

"Says you," Sylvain says. "Sure it does."

Felix rolls his eyes.

"Then you're doing it wrong." Felix says, as if he's some sort of expert. But luckily for him, Sylvain doesn't call Felix out on his experience with ass eating (see: lack of) so he's spared the embarrassment.

Sylvain gasps, a hand over his heart. "I have never done anything wrong in my life ever. Take that back, Felix Fraldarius."

"Never. No take-backs," Felix says, like he's five years old again. Except he's not, obviously. No five year old calls people for sex.

"I thought we were friends, Felix. I thought we were bros," he wails dramatically. "You promised we would die together. You _promised_."

"Yeah, when I was eight."

" _Irregardless_ ," (which isn't even a word) Sylvain sniffs, "A promise is a promise, and you're a man of your word." He claps his hands together and gracelessly fumbles the liquor bottle, spilling some onto his bedsheets. "Anyways! I think that's enough stalling, don't you? Make the call. You understand how these things work, right?"

Felix scoffs, "Yes." No. "Obviously." Not at all.

"Right, of course you do," Sylvain says with a knowing smirk that Felix hates. "Here, I'll pay since it's my idea." He fishes his wallet out from under a pile of papers on his desk and hands Felix his credit card.

"Fine." He swipes it from Sylvain with a huff.

Felix's expression sours as he dials the number. Sylvain sits on the bed beside him and leans over, pushing the speaker button. 

"What?" He says when Felix gives him a look. "I wanna hear it, too."

The tinny sound of ringing echoes between them as Felix holds the phone below his chin. Sylvain scoots closer so he's pressed to Felix's side, crisscrossing his legs beneath him. The phone rings and rings, and rings some more.

Felix almost hangs up, but then the tone cuts off and the line connects. He sucks in a breath, unsure of what to expect. 

Jazzy, sensual music starts to play as a voice wafts into their ears. 

" _Hey there, hot stuff,"_ a sultry female voice coos. _"Looking to have some fun? Ready to be pampered like royalty?_ _Come meet_ _Fodlan's very own Prince Charming. He's just dying to make all your fantasies come true. Say hello by pressing star now! Or, if you would rather take your chances and have some fun, sexy playtime with The Beast, hit that pound key instead. I promise you won't be disappointed."_

 _Gross._

Sylvain taps one of the keys on the keypad. The automated voice system changes.

" _Rrrow…time to play. Hold tight, sweetheart. We'll connect you in just a moment_."

After a couple more rings the line switches to another automated message, prompting Felix for payment.

Once he plugs in Sylvain's card number, he's transferred again, but this time when the line connects, he's met with dead air.

Felix waits. His heart begins to race in anticipation, despite the alcohol buzzing through his system.

He hears someone breathing heavily into the receiver. 

Hm, that's great.

He's called some kind of pervert.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He tries anyway, because why the hell not.

The breathing stops.

Something deep and sinister greets Felix with a chuckle that makes the hair on his neck stand on end.

" _Back again, you filthy whore?"_ It growls _._

Instantly sober, Felix blinks and his mouth drops open. His grip on his phone goes slack, his palms starting to sweat. Sylvain raises an eyebrow _._

What?

Who?

_Him?_

_...did he just call me a whore?_

"Did you just—"

" _I should have known you couldn't stay away,"_ the voice continues. _"You had to come back for another taste of my cock, didn't you?"_

In spite of his bewildered horror, Felix's dick twitches with interest. His phone slips from his hand and tumbles to the floor with a clatter.

Sylvain's shoulders shake with laughter as Felix stares at it.

 _"—such a dirty, needy little slut,"_ comes through the speaker. _"You really want me to fuck you that badly? You want me to spear you on my cock until you're a sniveling, groveling, disgusting mess don't you?"_

"What the hell?"

" ** _Quiet_** ," the voice snarls. " _I don't recall giving you permission to speak."_ It pauses, and takes in a shuddering breath. _"You listen to me, and you listen well. This is my domain, and these are my rules. I will not repeat myself if you—"_

Felix frantically scrambles off the bed. He scoops up his phone and mashes his finger over the screen, ending the call.

They stare at each other in silence.

" _Holy shit,"_ Sylvain gasps after a hot minute, laughing deep from his belly and falling back against the bed. His face steadily changes from red to purple, he's laughing so hard. " _Holy shit!"_ He says again, as if that makes him any more coherent than it did the first time. 

"What the hell," Felix says, absolutely stunned, " _was that?" Talk about zero to a fucking hundred._

Felix needs a moment to process what the fuck just happened _._ Not only because the words _'spear you with my cock'_ are now burned into his mind forever, but also because his dick seemed to like them _a lot_ , and he's probably going to have an awkward half chub - if not a full blown erection - if he thinks about them too long.

Which is a problem. A big problem.

 _"I don't know_ ," Sylvain wheezes, choking on his own spit. "I don't know! Amazing, maybe? _Your face_. I've never seen that look on your face before! Saints… wow. Just wow." Sylvain shakes his head and he's _still_ laughing. 

Eventually he settles enough to speak normally again.

"But dude... My man, I am so sorry," he says, like he actually means it, "you're going to have to call him back. This doesn't count as completing the dare unless you have a full session, you know?"

No, Felix doesn't know and now he doesn't want to know.

"Are you shitting me? Did you not just hear whatever that thing was?" He gestures wildly to his phone. "You want me to talk to _that?_ "

"Yes I did," Sylvain says. He coughs a few times as he catches his breath. "And yes I do. A dare is a dare and you're not done yet. You need to call him back. But uh… I don't think you should press pound this time."

"I didn't press anything, _you_ did _."_

Felix doesn't want to. Like, he cannot possibly stress enough how much he really really doesn't want to. At all. Unfortunately, Sylvain is right. A dare is a dare and Felix isn't a coward.

"Semantics. A button was pressed. It matters not who did it."

Felix scowls, but he goes to his call history and dials the number again. His hands aren't shaking. They're _not._

This time when prompted, Felix presses star instead.

After his payment processes, the phone rings for a while and Felix crosses his fingers, hoping he doesn't get whatever the fuck greeted him last time. It didn't even sound human.

 _"Hello, love,"_ a deep and buttery voice purrs when the line connects.

Felix almost drops his phone _again—_ but this time for an entirely different reason. 

_"It's awfully late. I've been waiting for someone like you to call me all night."_

_This_ voice gives Felix the good kind of chill. Like it's a hot summer day and someone is trailing an ice cube down his spine. He sits up at full attention.

 _Oh_.

 _Oh no_.

How is this so much _worse?!_

" _Hello?"_

This guy's voice doesn't sound like the one they heard before, but he called the same number didn't he?

He breaks from his haze to double check the screen.

He did. Huh. Maybe they're different people.

"... _Hello?"_

What _is_ he supposed to say? He still has no idea. Do these things usually start off as a normal phone call?

" _Hello…?"_ He hears again, more hesitant _. "Are you there, love?"_

Sylvain nudges him. It occurs to Felix then that he's been zoning out without saying anything this entire time.

Well, only one way to find out.

_Be cool, Felix. Act natural._

"Hi."

_Nope._

_Too natural_.

Sylvain slaps a hand over his mouth as he lets out a snort. Felix flips him off and cradles the phone closer to himself.

" _Ah, there you are_ ," the man says _. "I thought you left before we'd even started."_

"Oh. Um, no _,"_ Felix mumbles. "I'm here. I just...yeah. I don't know how this works. My friend gave me this number to call."

"He sounds hot," Sylvain whispers like it's some kind of secret, which it's _not._ He takes another swig from the bottle and offers it to Felix, who shakes his head and pushes it away.

 _"Please thank your friend for me, would you? You have a lovely voice,"_ he says.

 _Felix_ does?

_"What's your name, beautiful?"_

_Uh…_

Felix gives Sylvain an imploring look. Sylvain shrugs, real helpful-like.

"It's… it's um…" 

" _It's okay if you're nervous. You don't have to use your real name."_

His eyes dart around as he attempts to seek inspiration from the contents of Sylvain's room. It's so orderly that nothing stands out at first.

"I know that!" he snaps. "It's - it's..." his spots a name on the cover of one of the novels sitting on Sylvain's bookshelf. "Noah," Felix decides. "What about you?"

He can practically hear the smile in the man's voice when he answers, " _I'm whoever you want me to be tonight."_ Hm. Definitely a rehearsed line he's used on more than one occasion.

"That… doesn't help me," Felix grumbles. Mystery phone sex operator laughs at that.

" _Alex then. You can call me Alex_. _Does that work better for you?"_

"Is that your real name?"

" _Mm, for you it can be."_ Right, of course _._ These things are all about his fantasy, he knows at least that much.

"And you're supposed to be, what? 'The Prince?'"

" _'Prince Charming,' but some people call me that as well. I can assure you the moniker is less about royalty, and more about... mannerisms."_

"Okay... So what's 'The Beast,' then?" Besides fucking horrifying.

 _"Nothing for you to worry about…_ _"_ he trails off, and then, as if tasting how the name feels on his tongue says, _"_ _...Noah. You're with_ me _right now. I'd like to keep it that way."_

Felix shivers pleasantly at that. Sylvain is watching him like a hawk, eyes entirely too sharp for someone who's half in the bag. Felix quickly looks away.

"Whatever," he says, "I wasn't that curious anyway." He _was_ but he's not even going to consider what that says about him as a person. "How does this work exactly? Do people just… call you and say, 'I want to have sex? Here's a list of things I want us to do?'"

Alex’s voice has lost its low rumble and sounds more boyishly pleasant when he responds, _"Sometimes? Usually I try to ease them into things first… talk about their day, ask them what they're doing,_ _what sort of things they like."_

"...what they're wearing?"

" _I could do that, too,"_ he murmurs _. "What_ are _you wearing?"_

Felix looks down at himself. He's wearing jeans. "I'm wearing jeans," he says.

" _Mhm? And what else?"_

"A black turtleneck."

"Tell him it's really tight," Sylvain whispers. Felix waves him away.

"My shirt. It's… it's… too small on me," he says, trying not to choke on his own tongue.

Sylvain gives him a thumbs up. "You're doing great."

" _Oh? Is that so…"_

Felix mutes the phone and turns to Sylvain with wide eyes. "I can't do this." 

"Yes you can. You're fine," Sylvain says, clasping his shoulder. "You got this."

Felix doesn't 'got this' but appreciates Sylvain's vote of confidence anyway. He unmutes the call.

"Yeah. And the sleeves are short. You can see my arms."

It occurs to Felix that he's really bad at this.

Like.

 _Really_ bad.

"Do you need to know what I look like too?"

 _"Oh, you've never done this before at all have you?"_ Alex's voice takes on a pensive tone. Felix hears what sounds like fingers tapping on a desk.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

" _I thought you were pretending. Some of my clients like to do that."_

"Uh no, why would I? That's stupid."

 _"I have met many strange people, you might be surprised,"_ he says _. "Would you like me to walk you through your first time then? We can take it slow."_

First time? Felix scoffs. He's not a virgin. He's had sex. He's had tons of sex!

With like… almost three people, in fact.

Ferdinand from first year Economics totally counts, even if it was just a handjob. He doesn't need someone to hold his hand.

"Excuse you, I've had sex before," he blurts out. "Plenty of times. Just not...over the phone."

And there's one other problem: he's not about to attempt to have phone sex with Sylvain right fucking beside him.

" _Oh, of course! I didn't mean to assume,"_ Alex is quick to apologize. Felix is starting to understand what he means by mannerisms. He gives off a lot of polite, good boy vibes. _"It's just that this is - well - it is quite a different experience, and I would be more than happy to help you with it should you need it. What are you doing right now?"_

"I'm drinking," Felix says, feeling lame as soon as he does. "I was watching TV earlier."

" _By yourself? I can fix that for you...offer you some company."_

"No. I have a friend with me."

" _You're calling me when your friend is in the room?"_ Alex sounds surprised, but amused. " _That's quite salacious of you. Are you always this naughty?"_

_What?_

"What? No! I don't— _You be quiet,"_ he hisses at Sylvain who starts laughing at him. "I don't— I wouldn't—" he heaves an aggravated sigh. "I'm not like that. I didn't call...for sex."

" _You didn't? But this is - you're aware this is the service I'm providing, are you not?"_

"No, I know that!" A full session doesn't have to be about sex, right? _Right??_ "Is there any possible way we can keep things above the belt? My friend is _right_ beside me."

Alex's voice dips low again, _"How close of friends are you? Are you sure they don't want to join us?"_

_Not close enough for that!_

"Oh hell yeah. Yes please," Sylvain pipes up, enthusiastically. Felix rounds on him.

 _"Shut up."_ To the phone he says, "No, ignore him, he really doesn't."

"I really do!"

He mutes the call. "I said _shut up,_ Sylvain."

"Aw come on, Felix. You know I'm just kidding."

"Are you, though?"

"Yeah! I mean, mostly…"

"Tch. Insatiable. Call him on your own time."

Sylvain gives him a wolfish grin. "Maybe I will."

Felix scoffs. "Go for it then. What you do in your spare time is none of my business." He unmutes his phone. "Anyways, ignore Syl— _my friend—_ he's had a lot to drink. Like I was saying… do you do anything above the belt?"

_"Non-sexual acts, you mean? Is that what you're referring to?"_

"Yeah. Do you ever sit and talk to your clients for an entire call?"

 _"I...have,"_ he hesitates _. "But I try to discourage it because my services come with a fee, and there are helplines you can call that don't charge you to speak to someone."_ There's a rustle of paper _. "I have a few numbers on hand if you need one."_

"No, no that's fine. Something else then?"

" _Mm… how about a massage?"_

A massage, huh. That could work.

"Sure." Felix rubs his forehead with a sigh. "Let's do that."

_*_

What follows, once they get started, is the most awkward fifteen minutes of Felix's life. Alex invites Sylvain to assist him with the massage. They decide that Felix will keep his shirt on and there will be no overtly suggestive touching allowed.

Felix is stiff as a board when Sylvain places his hands on his shoulders as per Alex's instruction. Sylvain gives them a squeeze as Alex's voice drifts up from beside Felix's hip,

" _Hmmm… you carry a lot of tension in your shoulders don't you?"_

"Yeah, I guess so," Felix agrees. Courtesy of being hunched over at his desk at work for eight hours a day.

_"I can tell… here, let me work some of it out for you. We can start with your neck."_

Sylvain snickers as he rubs the sides and back of Felix's neck, digging a thumb into a tight knot he encounters with a lot more force than necessary. Felix hisses through his teeth.

"Ow, watch it!"

 _"Ah, my apologies,"_ Alex says, like he's the one who actually did it. Like he's the one sitting behind Felix, working the kinks from his muscles. Except, for all intents and purposes he _is_ because Felix has to remind himself that that's the whole point of role-play like this. _"Am I pressing too hard?"_

 _"Yes,"_ he growls, glaring at Sylvain. Sylvain gives him an air kiss in reply.

" _I'll be more careful. Sometimes I don't know my own strength_." He sighs, a slow, sensual sound that makes Felix's stomach flutter. " _Your shoulders and your arms…_ _"_ Sylvain moves his hands down to his biceps, _"_... _they feel so good under my hands. Strong... firm...do you like to work out, Noah?"_

"Yeah," Felix says. "Every morning, but how did you—"

" _I can just tell. I wonder...is the rest of you as toned as these arms of yours?"_ There's a playful lilt to his voice as he whispers, " _Is that why you wanted to show them off to me?"_

Felix's eyes shut as he leans into the touch. It actually does feel really good, and he finds himself letting out a low groan of pleasure.

"Oh yeah," Sylvain says suddenly, and Felix startles because _Saints,_ for a fucking second he actually forgot he was there. "He's a total smoke-show. You'd shit yourself if you saw him in person."

Alex laughs, _"That sounds unpleasant. I would hope you don't mean literally_. _"_

"Naw. I just mean he's a babe," he continues, using two hands to work Felix's arm. There's a chiropractor around the corner from Felix's work, and he's seriously starting to think about becoming a patient there if an amateur massage feels this good. "And he's single."

Felix throws Sylvain a flat look from over his shoulder. "What are you doing? Are you trying to pimp me out to a sex worker right now?"

"Just stating the facts," Sylvain says, moving over to his other arm. "And trying to keep the conversation light, that's all."

"Need I remind you this phone call is on _your_ dime?" Felix mutters, rolling his unoccupied shoulder. "The longer you talk the more money you're going to get charged."

"Eh, I don't care about that," Sylvain says. "My dad's paying for it. I just don't want things to get awkward, that's all. 'Cause you're not much of a talker."

"And whose fault is that?"

 _"You two must be close. I'm guessing you've been friends for a long time."_ Blessedly, he doesn't comment on Sylvain's tactless attempt to sell him on Felix.

"Too long," Felix says.

_"That's not always a bad thing."_

Felix silently agrees. There are definitely worse things.

 _"Let's see… your back could use some attention now couldn't it?"_ Sylvain's hands slide from Felix's arm to settle between his shoulder blades.

Something tells him Sylvain is enjoying this a little bit _too_ much when he really digs into his back, unfurling another knot that has Felix bracing his hands on his knees with clenched teeth. " _Oh, you're so tight here,"_ Alex croons, voice dripping with barely concealed delight _, "but that's all right, I'll loosen you right up, Noah. Relax for me, if you please?"_

Felix chokes _._ Does he have to say it like that? Saints, he's so confused. On one hand, Sylvain is ever present, touching his back, quietly laughing in his ear but on the other hand Felix's dick _doesn't care._

This is the worst. Sylvain can eat a huge dick next time he tries to goad Felix into a dare, he's not doing this again. 

But the fact of the matter is, the massage is making him feel boneless all on its own, so he has no choice _but_ to relax. Lulled by the soft tone of Alex's voice and the firm pressure at his back, Felix allows himself a few minutes to simply enjoy what's happening.

His lower back is next, and by this time he's so chilled out from the massage and the alcohol that he's starting to fall asleep.

That is until Sylvain's hands slip down to his ass and he _squeezes,_ ruining everything _._

Felix jerks away from him with a start, whipping his head around to pin him with a vicious glare.

"Oi!" He barks. "Don't grab my ass, you asshole!" He slaps at Sylvain's wandering hands when they get too close again, and Sylvain throws his head back and laughs, tossing his hands up in surrender.

"Hey, calm down, calm down," he tries to pacify. "I'm just doing what the boss said."

"He said nothing about grabbing my ass, you fuck. _Hands off_."

_"...would you mind terribly if I did?"_

_"Yes I would mind terribly,"_ he sneers. "Neither of you is getting anywhere near my ass. This massage is over. I'm done."

Sylvain cackles, but makes no move to stop him when Felix punctuates his point by launching himself off the bed and storming out of the room in embarrassment.

*

He presses his back against the wall outside Sylvain's door, only half listening to the conversation as Sylvain continues to chat up The Prince in his absence, in between peals of laughter at Felix's expense.

Hilarious. Good to know one of them finds it funny. 

Felix wills his dick to stand down as he buries his face in his hands. He'll piss and wash his face to cool off, he decides. 

At least he completed the dare. 

But the question now is, at what cost?

*

When he returns sometime later, Sylvain is sprawled out on the bed with a book and his reading glasses perched on his nose. He looks up when Felix enters the room, and Felix scowls when he sees the front cover of the book he's holding.

"Did you have a nice little wank while you were gone?" Sylvain asks, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

"Fuck you," Felix says. "I hope you know how much I hate you right now."

"Aww, is that all I get? No ' _Thanks so much Sylvain for taking care of what would otherwise be an extremely awkward goodbye? You're the best friend ever?'"_

"I didn't need your help."

Not to mention he wouldn't have had to do any of this if Sylvain hadn't dared him in the first place!

"Debatable. You got up and left the guy. _No offense_ , but your manners are abysmal." 

"My manners are just fine!" Felix snaps. "And besides, you—" he stops when Sylvain's words register. "Did you just…" 

No offense...

Noah…

…

Saints, make that _two_ huge dicks.

Felix picks up a pillow and chucks it at Sylvain's head.

*

Felix spends the entire night on the floor wide awake, while Sylvain snores on the bed above him, blissfully ignorant to his plight.

Alex's voice, interspersed with thoughts of The Beast, keeps playing over and over in his head.

_Are you always this naughty?_

_You want me to spear you on my cock until you're a sniveling, groveling, disgusting mess don't you?_

_Don't you?_

_Relax for me…I'll loosen you right up._

_I'll keep you company...Felix._

Felix places his pillow over his face and screams.

_*_

The next day Felix saves the number to his contact list.

He doesn't tell Sylvain. 

The less he knows, the better.

And besides, it's not like Felix is going to ever use it again.

He's not that lonely or desperate.

...Right?


	2. h stands for horny and hhh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix didn't sign up to be plagued by daydreams what is this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a brief break from the cringe for you guys

Felix is having a day.

It's kind of a shitty one.

He's on the phone, and Felix hates using telephones.

More specifically, he hates when he's _forced_ to use them. Unfortunately, because a large part of his job consists of using the damn things, it means _every_ day at work is usually bad for Felix. Some more than others.

Most patients that call the office are perfectly reasonable human beings. Reasonable, reasonably intelligent, and, more often than not, willing to listen to what he says. 

But then there are the assholes like the man he's talking to right now who think they know how to do Felix's job better than he does.

These are the ones that ruin his day.

"As I explained to you before, _sir,_ " Felix says with as much calm as he can muster, "we require you to make an appointment for an assessment with the doctor _before_ being prescribed any narcotic medications. I'm sorry, and I understand your frustration, but our office policy clearly states that—" 

_"I don't give a damn about your office policy!"_ The man (what did he say his name was again? Kenneth?) shrieks. 

_Clearly not_ , Felix thinks with a scowl. _You haven't listened to a damn thing I've told you since we started this conversation._

" _I just want something for the pain! Don't you get it? I wouldn't be calling you guys otherwise!"_

Could-be-Kenneth then decides to spend the next five or so minutes verbally filleting Felix; screaming vulgar profanities - about how incompetent Felix is, how shitty the health care system is, how he didn't spend thirty-some-odd years working himself into the pavement just to be treated this way - into his ear to the point where Felix has to set the phone down on his desk. 

He's been on the phone with this guy for at least twenty minutes now, trying to drill into his fucking skull that they're not some sort of drug dispensary or pharmaceutical wholesaler. This is a general practice office, and there's goddess-damned protocol to follow when dealing with dangerous substances like opiates. Felix knows this. It's his _job_ to know. He doesn't understand why people don't seem to get that. He's not doing it as some kind of fucking vendetta _. It's not personal._

Maybe-Kenneth-but-Felix-isn't-sure's voice is shrill as he continues to rage, _"You think that because I'm calling about pain medication it automatically means that I'm—"_

Felix drags both hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes. He has neither the time nor the patience for this. He turns to his computer and clicks through this and next week's schedule, massaging his forehead with his fingers. There's a huge gap in tomorrow's day he needs to fill, and every second he spends listening to some asshole argue with him is a second he can't spend getting actual work done.

 _"—so damn tired of being treated like I'm some kind of junkie, when all I want is—_ "

Felix glances at the phone. 

One of the passing nurses, Marianne, gives Felix a sympathetic look, mouthing, 'Another one?' which is a sign that this is becoming a common enough occurrence that, as their busy season begins, even the other staff are starting to notice.

Felix nods. 

_"I want to speak to your manager!"_ Kenneth-or-something finally finishes on a breathless note, after screaming himself hoarse about Goddess knows what. 

That's the funny thing about this job. People think Felix is listening when they yell at him like this, like he actually gives a shit what they have to say. Maybe once upon a time he used to care, back when he was a wide eyed teenager first learning the ins and outs of the office, and was optimistic about his future, but not now. Now he's twenty-five going on forty, and probably going to die in the next ten years.

Felix picks the phone back up and says, with no small amount of self restraint, "This isn't a retail store, sir. I _am_ the manager."

" _Then I want to speak to your employer! Get me the doctor!"_

_Why? What's the point? He's going to tell you the same thing I did!_

"I'm afraid that's not possible," he says. "Dr. Fraldarius is with a patient right now. If you like, I can leave him a message and he will contact you personally to discuss an optimal time for you to—"

" _No, forget it. I'll just find someone else to treat me if he can't make the time for me,"_ he declares. Felix rolls his eyes to the ceiling _. "Looks like you just lost a patient, pal!"_ And before Felix can get a word in, Kenneth(?) hangs up on him.

Felix remains on the line in disbelief. 

"...but you're not even a patient here?" he quietly says to the dial tone. 

He slams the phone onto the receiver. "Ugh, whatever, _pal_. I hope your hemorrhoids get hemorrhoids. Fucking jackass..."

He seethes for all of a few seconds before the phone starts ringing again. Thankfully this time their receptionist Bernadetta (a mousy waif of a woman, but a hard worker who squeaked her way through her interview) spares him by answering it, leaving Felix to stew in his annoyance and seriously contemplate calling it quits forever.

This isn't an isolated incident either. He's been dealing with this for years. Ever since he dropped out of university, Felix has been coasting listlessly through life, unable to plan ahead for his future beyond the most basic of necessities. 

He gets up to run every morning, showers, feeds his cats, goes to work, comes home and feeds the cats again, makes dinner, falls asleep watching YouTube let's plays of horror games (subsequently resulting in some horrible fucking nightmares), and wakes up the next day to do it all over again. 

Felix has an order to his life, with an established routine that some find boring and uninspired. It's static; sedentary and comfortable in a way he knows. Every once and a while he will break it up with menial tasks (grocery shopping, vet appointments, kickboxing on Tuesday and Thursday nights) or one or more of his friends will drag him out to be quote, _social for once._ Otherwise it's the same thing, day in and day out.

Or, at least it _was_ until he made that phone call last Friday night.

Today is Monday. It has officially been about three days since he called Alex and The Beast. Three excruciatingly long days where he's spent more time fantasizing about the sound of their voices than he has doing anything remotely productive. 

Although, today is arguably the only day he hasn't consistently been able to think of either of them (but not for lack of trying!) because every time he does, there's an interruption: a patient at his desk, insurance companies he needs to contact, phone calls he needs to answer, his old man trying to talk to him in between patients—

You get the picture.

The whole thing is Sylvain's fault. Felix has forgiven Sylvain for a lot of things in their decades of friendship, but he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to forgive him this time.

It has been three days and he and his dick have not known peace.

The office door chimes just as Felix is reacquainting his forehead with his desk for what's probably the tenth time in the past hour. He glances up as the red-haired menace himself enters the office.

 _Speak of the devil and he shall appear,_ Felix thinks. But the devil comes bearing gifts, which makes him marginally more tolerable.

Sylvain balances a paper tray of coffees in one hand and holds a pastry bag along with his phone in the other as he makes his way to the front desk.

Sylvain likes to do this from time to time. He will randomly pop in to visit, usually on his lunch break or if he's finished early for the day, and drop off coffee for Felix, his coworkers, and Felix's old man. 

"Hey Felix." Sylvain greets him with a smile as he sets the tray down on the ledge of Felix's desk. "Got you a little something this time." He shakes the pastry bag enticingly before holding it out to him, along with his coffee. Both items are from the little café down the street that Felix likes. Felix looks at Sylvain skeptically before taking the bag and the paper to-go cup.

"Thanks," he says. "What is it? It better not be anything sweet."

"Naw. They're doing all day breakfast at that place you like. It's one of those uh…" Sylvain waves his hand, thinking about it, "breakfast sandwiches. Smoked cheddar and bacon and egg on a croissant. Really good, actually. Thought you might be hungry."

"Breakfast at lunch?" Felix raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, dude. Best meal of the day."

Well, a sandwich _is_ still a sandwich no matter the time of day. He peers into the bag and gives it a sniff. It _does_ smell good, and he _could_ eat…

"Afternoon, ladies! Looking gorgeous as usual," Sylvain says, looking over Felix's head with his most charming smile and a wink.

It's a look Felix knows all too well.

Felix turns to see Dorothea, the office's supply rep, standing outside one of the exam rooms with Marianne. Marianne hides her smile and a giggle behind her hand, while Dorothea glares fiercely in Sylvain's direction. It looks like he's interrupted them mid-conversation.

Sylvain winces and his smile falters. "Ouch…that look. She's mad at me isn't she?" he says to Felix.

Felix snorts, folding the pastry bag closed again. "Yeah. Are you surprised?"

"Look, whatever I did this time, I swear it's not my fault! It was totally an accident, it—"

"What are you doing here?" Dorothea snaps at him. She doesn't even bother to disguise the cool disdain in her voice.

"Nothing! Nothing! Dropping off the goods and saying hi... That's all," Sylvain says with a nervous chuckle, glancing at Felix, his eyes pleading for help. Felix stares impassively back and slowly opens the tab on his coffee. "If I'd known you were here today, I would've brought you something, too..."

"I'm here every Monday," she replies flatly.

"Oh. Really? Oh, that's awkward... I'll remember for next time."

"Mhm. Just like how you remembered to take me out for my birthday? And that time I asked you to grab an important package for me because I wasn't going to be home, and they shipped it back to the sender because you never came?"

"Oh come on, that was so long ago. You're not still holding a grudge about that are you?"

Marianne gasps, "I know this story. The accessories you ordered for the wedding, right?"

Dorothea sighs, "Almost. They were part of yours and Hilda's wedding gift. But thanks to Sylvain over here…" she gives Sylvain another dirty look and tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "My gift for you was almost ruined. Luckily, I have connections at the post office."

"I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know my twenty minute nap would turn into four hours…"

"You took a _four_ hour nap?" Felix stares at him incredulously. He'd heard the story from Dorothea, but hadn't gotten the rest of it from Sylvain. He feels like he shouldn't be surprised by this at all, and _yet_.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep at all the night before. Haha… Whoops?"

"What the hell were you doing all night?" Felix asks, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Sylvain grins at him, folding his hands behind his head.

"You wouldn't know her," he says.

Oh.

Eugh.

Of course. 

Felix wrinkles his nose. "Forget I asked."

"It's clear where _his_ priorities lie," Dorothea says, a little cruelly. "And no, I'm not pissed at you for that. I'm pissed that you ditched me all night for some girl you met at the bar on Saturday. We agreed on no hookups when we hang out, remember?"

"I'm sorry! I was drunk, and she was hot and it would've been rude to say no. And like… if some creep hits on you I know you can handle it so I knew you'd be fine without me."

"That's great. Thank you. I'm happy our friendship means less to you than some random hot girl who bats her eyelashes or flashes her tits at you," she says, one hand on her hip. "You know, Sylvain, If you treat every woman you're close to like this, you're going to end up all alone, wondering how you got there."

"Ouch… I said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Besides, there's nothing wrong with being an eternal bachelor. Plenty of guys have lived out long, healthy and fulfilled lives that way. There's no reason why I can't be one of them."

"Uh huh," Dorothea mutters. "And what about Ingrid?"

"Aaaaaand, that's my cue to go," Sylvain decides with a snap of his fingers, dramatically spinning on his heel and making a beeline for the door.

Dorothea scoffs at his back. "That's what I thought."

"Oh wait, shit!" Sylvain stops abruptly at the door and makes another about-face back to Felix's desk. "Before I pop off, any chance of you getting off early today? Ingrid wants to hang out later. She just bought a new slow cooker, and she's really excited about it. Said she's making pulled pork."

"Ohhhh, _Ingrid_ is cooking is she?"

Sylvain's face burns as brightly as his hair, though he pointedly ignores Dorothea's jeering.

Felix wants to commit and say yes, but he remembers the gap in the day sheet and his head throbs.

He frowns, looks at the schedule for tomorrow again, and brings up his short call list. If he can get any of these patients in for their physicals, he _should_ be able to get out on time for once.

Keyword: should.

"Think about it, Felix. _Free meal."_

"Maybe," he sighs, taking a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving his computer. _Fuck, that's good_. "We had a bunch of patients cancel tomorrow, and today has been stupid busy. I'll see what I can do." 

As if on cue the phone starts ringing.

He ignores it. Bernie can get it.

"Sure. You do what you gotta do," Sylvain says. "Text me later when you know. I'll come get you."

"Fine. Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Maybe."

The phone is still ringing.

"Cool," Sylvain says, and then, "Are you gonna grab that?"

Felix pries his eyes away from the screen and looks around. Bernadetta is conspicuously absent.

She must have made a break for it when Sylvain showed up. 

There's a story there, but he knows nothing about it beyond it having something to do with fanfiction. His head throbs again, fingers itching to throw the phone on the ground and smash it to pieces. 

He picks it up before it goes to voicemail, cradling the earpiece to his ear with a sigh. "Dr. Fraldarius's office, Felix speaking, what can I help you with?"

-

End of the day can't come soon enough. Once Felix gets off work (last one there, as usual), he immediately heads home. After feeding the cats and sending Sylvain a quick text, he strips off his scrubs and hops into the shower, allowing the hot water to ease some of the tension lingering in his shoulders and neck.

Another day down, and Goddess only knows how many more to go. When there's no goal in sight it's hard to look forward to anything anymore and his days seem to stretch on and on without end.

He tries not too hard to think about it. 

At least he managed to fill in tomorrow's schedule. Now he just needs to do that for...next week too. 

He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. Fuck, he's so not meant for these desk jobs.

-

Sylvain arrives shortly after he exits the shower to pick Felix up in his stupid, flashy and obnoxious Benz. Its red paint shouts as loud as its owner does when he's drunk, and Felix likes to remind Sylvain how much of a fuckboy he is when he drives it.

"A badge I wear with pride," he says with a wink, peeling out of the apartment complex with a squeal of tires as Felix clings to the door handle for dear life.

-

They arrive at Ingrid's house with little fanfare, keying in the pass-code to the door before letting themselves in. 

"Honey, I'm home!" Sylvain calls when they enter, dumping his shoes in the foyer with as much grace as a toddler. Felix is more careful, arranging them neatly on the shoe rack provided.

"I'm in the kitchen!" 

Ingrid pokes her head out from down the hall, blond hair swept up into a ponytail, the shortest pieces tickling the sides of her neck. After highschool graduation she'd lobbed off all her hair and has kept it short since. Felix thinks it suits her. 

"We brought dessert," Felix says, holding up a box of doughnuts they'd picked up along the way. "Where do you want these?"

Ingrid disappears back into the kitchen, but he can hear her moving things around as he gets closer, Sylvain following behind. The house smells like roast and barbecue sauce and it makes Felix's mouth water.

"Oh, um, you can put those on the counter over there, thank you." She gestures to the far left counter next to the stove. "Glad you could come, Felix."

"Only Felix? That's cold, Ingy…"

"And you too, of course, Sylvain," she says, rolling her eyes with a smile as he pulls her into a half hug and kisses her temple.

Felix deposits the box on the counter and peers into the pan on the stove with interest, only to recoil in disgust. "Ugh… beans."

"Smells really good in here, Ingrid. Thanks for having us over," Sylvain says.

"Of course. Someone needs to keep an eye on you two to make sure you're eating properly."

"I eat plenty good!"

"Not well enough I don't worry about you," she says with a soft snort, hugging Felix as well when he's within reaching distance. 

"Felix eats worse than I do!"

"Don't drag me into this," Felix mutters, giving her a brief squeeze and kiss on the cheek before letting go. "You're the only one here that can't cook."

"Felix's problem is he doesn't eat enough vegetables. Which is why I've taken it upon myself to feed him plenty of those tonight."

He sighs, thinking of the beans. He'll eat them but he won't be happy about it.

"And you too, Sylvain. Don't think I haven't seen all those takeout containers in your fridge…"

"I totally get vegetables when I order in. Potatoes are a vegetable, right? Back me up here, Felix."

Felix shakes his head. "They're a starch."

"What? You're on her side? The _betrayal_." He covers his heart with his hand. "You cut me deep. Right here."

"Somehow, I'm sure you'll survive," Felix says. "Ingrid, is there… anything I can give you a hand with?"

"Hm?" Ingrid looks up from stirring the contents of her crock pot, the steam curling about the air in delicate gray ribbons. "No, everything is almost ready. Grab a drink and sit down."

"What about me?" Sylvain says, sounding put out that his dramatics are being ignored. "What should I do?"

"Nothing for now. You can help me serve everything later. You boys keep each other company while you wait."

She turns back to the pot and puts the lid back on. Felix swears he hears her whisper, "This is going to be the best pulled pork ever," and pat the damn thing as he's exiting the kitchen. 

-

"So, I've got something for you that'll cheer you up," Sylvain says once they're seated at Ingrid's dining room table. Each place setting is oddly perfect for a casual dinner among friends, and remnant of Ingrid's serving days. It's cute. Charming even.

Felix eyes him skeptically. Sylvain's methods of _cheering_ _him up_ usually involve women, too much alcohol, and a lot of sweaty bodies (on the dance floor).

He's almost afraid to ask.

"What is it."

"I got you a date with a friend of mine." He smirks, looking very pleased with himself. "He's hot, he's single, he's ready to mingle, and he's totally your type."

"I don't have a type," Felix says, already disliking the direction this conversation is taking. This isn't the first time Sylvain has tried to set him up with someone.

"Everyone has a type," Sylvain blithely states, like it's a fact. "He likes cats… I think? Oh, and he likes swords, too."

Felix waits, expecting more. When Sylvain doesn't elaborate any further, he frowns, giving him a look. "That's it? That's your big pitch? He likes swords, and maybe likes cats?"

"Well like, it's kind of a niche hobby isn't it? Sword collecting? But he has more than swords, it's a whole…" he mimes the shape of a box with his hands, "big room dedicated to different weapons. Display cases, wall-hangings, antiques, and all that. It's right up your alley."

"Tempting, but no," Felix says. "Not interested."

"There's more to him, I swear! He has a steady job, he's big into athletics - just like you. Clever and suave - kind of like yours truly - a great sense of humour..."

"Still no."

"...he wants to make changes to the world, he's well read and educated…I could keep going, you know."

"Please don't."

"Hey, I'm just saying - he's the whole package."

"If he's so great," Felix scoffs, absentmindedly playing with his fork, "Why don't _you_ date him?"

"He's not my type," Sylvain says immediately. "I think we're too similar. Plus, things were a little awkward between us last year."

That sounds like a euphemism for 'we hooked up at some point and things got messy.' But with Sylvain's track record it's hard to say for sure.

"Don't give me that look. I didn't sleep with him. We just happened to have the hots for the same person and uh… I got to them first."

"Another faceless name added to your ever growing kill count," Felix murmurs. Not that he's surprised. "I'm afraid to ask who it was."

"What can I say, I have a healthy appetite." _Debatable_. "All work and no play makes Sylvain a rusty boy."

Flatly, "Don't ever say that to me again," Felix says.

"...Look Felix," Sylvain sighs, suddenly somber. His face falls into something serious that makes Felix's stomach clench in apprehension.

"The point is, I'm worried about you, that's all. Ever since you and Annie split up—" Felix flinches as the reminder pulls sharply on his heartstrings. After all this time, it still smarts. "I don't think you've been with anybody else, have you?"

He hasn't really. For two and a half years, Annette Dominic had been his everything. He hadn't needed anyone else, and every person that had crossed his path or expressed interest in him since then never shone quite as brightly as she did.

They'd been perfect. They were going to build a future for themselves. Felix was going to finish his undergraduate degree, pursue his Master's or maybe his PhD, and Annie was going to be a teacher. They were going to buy a house together. 

Everything was… 

Everything had been… perfect.

But then Glenn died in Felix's third year, and Felix's everything fell apart.

"No, but that's my choice," he bites out, tightly folding his arms. "I stopped trying when everyone I went out with just…" 

Didn't compare?

"Didn't meet all the bullet points of an arbitrary checklist you put together in your head?" Sylvain knocks gently on the side of his own head with a frown. "Listen, I know the dating pool is kind of a shit show at the best of times, but you have to understand that no one is going to be the right fit for you with the impossibly high standards you set for them. No one."

"Annie was," he responds, bitterly.

"Annie is also the reason why they exist in the first place. That's not fair to you or to anyone else," Sylvain points out. 

"Let it go, Sylvain."

"Come on, man… you gotta talk to somebody about this, instead of avoiding it whenever it comes up. Or bottling up your feelings."

 _Wrong_.

Felix doesn't have to do _shit._

"I don't see why you have to involve yourself in my business all the time when you can't even sort out your own problems," Felix says, annoyed. "You're always doing this - poking around where you're not wanted or needed like you can't help but meddle in everyone else's affairs. I already said it's my choice, and—"

 _"Honestly,_ I leave you two alone for five minutes, _and this is what I come back to?_ "

Ingrid glares at them from the entrance to the dining room, holding a glass salad bowl and a pair of tongs, which she points and snaps at them with. "What have I told you about fighting in my house?"

Cowed, they mumble, "Sorry, Ingrid."

"Better," she huffs. "I'm trying to make a nice meal for you guys, and the last thing I need is to get indigestion before we've even started eating."

Sylvain gets up to take the bowl from her, setting it down on the table. He gently takes the tongs as well. "Thank you," she says with a faint smile, before turning back to the kitchen.

"Think about it, Felix," Sylvain says, following after Ingrid. He pauses in the archway and turns to look at him, a complicated expression pinching his brows together. "I'm not trying to get all up in your business, you know that, right?"

Felix sighs through his nose, turning his head away. "I'm _fine_ , Sylvain," he says. "But if it'll make you stop fretting over me like you're my mother, I'll…think about it." 

Sylvain smiles at him, "All right. Good."

-

They eat messy pulled pork sandwiches for dinner, shoot the shit, and bicker as usual. The food is delicious - even the beans aren't completely wretched - and Sylvain sings Ingrid's praises loud enough for the two of them.

Felix is the first to bitch about socializing, but spending time with two of his oldest friends like this is…nice.

So he feels kind of bad that he's not putting much effort into maintaining conversation with either of them. Sylvain talks enough that they don't really notice anyway, and they'd probably interpret Felix's silence to mean that he's tired (which he is) but in truth he…

Well.

He's been thinking. A lot.

His mind keeps wandering back to Friday night as he idly picks at his salad, nudging the tomato cubes to the side of his bowl. He wonders - watching Ingrid jealously guard her plate from Sylvain's sneaky fingers - if Sylvain's told Ingrid about what happened. There are few things they don't share among themselves; few secrets they keep from each other.

This time… this time Felix thinks he'd like to make an exception.

The phone in Felix's pocket seems to burn and itch at his skin with forbidden knowledge; Felix's own dirty little secret. 

"All done, Felix?"

Felix drags his eyes from his plate up to Ingrid who is offering out her hand to take it from him. "You must really be exhausted," she says as she gathers up his utensils and plates, "You're so out of it."

"Sorry," he says, rubbing one of his eyes. "It's been a long day."

"Do you want me to take you home?" Sylvain offers. "I can take you now if you're not up to staying. I know you work in the morning."

"No, it's fine. I'll stay. Let me help you clean up."

They make quick work of tidying after dinner, and then cram together like sardines onto Ingrid's tiny couch she refuses to replace with a larger model. Armed with snacks (Ingrid) and beer (Sylvain), they settle in to watch a movie they all know they'll talk through.

Idle chatter aside, about halfway through the movie Felix realizes he doesn't remember anything that's been happening on screen. 

He keeps daydreaming, and he can't help but feel something stir within him when he thinks of that call. 

Something he hasn't felt in almost three years of abstinence.

Desire.

Desire for the animalistic, almost feral ferocity of The Beast that turned him on just as much as it made him want to shit his pants.

Desire for the soft, even, and dulcet tone of Alex's voice, his teasing and suggestion, even through something as innocuous as a fake massage, enough to rile Felix right up.

Desire for… something.

Desire for the sake of desire. 

The compulsion to feel something again.

...

...Saints, that sounds so fucking dramatic, did he really just think that?

_Okay, edgelord, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. It's just been a while and it's called being horny._

He sincerely hopes that whatever _this_ is it passes quickly, and life can go back to normal. It's still early. The more time that goes by, the more the memory will fade and the less he'll think about _them_.

He figures if he says it enough times, maybe eventually he'll believe it.

-

When Felix gets home, he slops some wet food into a bowl for the cats before flopping face-first into bed.

Though he doesn't remember them in detail, Felix's dreams that night are plagued by vivid imagery. Voices that whisper to him and phantom hands that caress every inch of his skin: his thighs, his hips, his chest, his lips, between his legs…

Teeth bite at his neck, a tongue curls over the shell of his ear, fingers slip into his mouth and a hand wraps around his cock, pulling and stroking him until he's begging and pleading for completion and—

Felix wakes the next morning to his alarm, feeling crusty and gross. His underwear and thighs are tacky with old come.

He doesn't notice at first, still drowsy and mostly incoherent with a cat sprawled across his chest and fur in his face. In fact, it's only when he starts to get out of bed that he realizes he's had a fucking _wet dream_ of all things. It's so unbelievable that he actually checks the inside of his briefs, and is met with an unpleasant surprise.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

Day four is already off to a great start.

Clearly mistake number two was saving that damn telephone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he thinks he's strong-willed but he's fucking wrong wrong wrong


	3. itchy, tasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix wants some fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changing the rating as we turn the thermostat up on this bad boy

Felix is (blessedly) alone in his apartment on Friday night when he makes mistake number three.

_It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't —_

The words play in Felix's head over and over as he closes his bedroom door and sits on his bed, holding his cell phone.

_It's the horny talking. This means nothing._

_I believe this is called scratching an itch_ , a voice that sounds like Sylvain whispers from a corner of Felix's mind _. A week long itch you've been dying to get rid of. Better watch out, it could be contagious. Maybe you should get your dad to look at it._

"Your stupidity is contagious," Felix mumbles to himself. "Shut up and go away, Sylvain. No one asked you."

Still, Felix has to wonder where his carefully crafted self control has gone when he opens up his contact list and scrolls down with shaking hands to Alex's number.

Felix of the past would never call someone up for sex, not even if he was seeing them or actively dating them, because it feels way too impersonal. Why would he decide to partake in what is, effectively, just another form of masturbation when he could have a warm body beside him instead?

...Not that Felix actually _has_ that option right now, but it is an option, if he decides he wants to, you know, go for it. But that's not the point.

The point is that he's a grown man making grown man decisions, and choosing what and who he does with his time. And if that's nothing and no one, that's between him, his hand, and the Goddess herself. But with that said, apparently it's about to be between him and The Prince, considering his decision as of about five minutes ago.

He can't help but feel like Felix of the present would be the biggest disappointment to Felix of the past. But it should be noted that Felix of the past never had to contend with just how fucking balls to walls horny Felix of the present is, didn't spend nearly as much time with his hands on his dick as present Felix has, and so has no idea what he's going through. 

Which means past Felix can go fuck himself.

Which, he already has in a way. But that's okay, since Felix is _fine_ with jacking off on his own. It doesn't bother him when he does. It feels _good_. It has to, otherwise why would anyone do it? He's done it plenty of times before bed to help him sleep, or after a stressful day at work to unwind. And the best part is it's _easy_ to flip through some random porn site, sit back, and not have to expend any brain cells trying to conjure up some elaborate fantasy when you live alone and there's no need to be quiet.

What's not easy, and is very difficult to come to terms with, however, is that porn hasn't been cutting it lately. So he's taken to using his imagination instead, and every time he closes his eyes and wraps a hand around himself, he pictures a faceless man stroking him and growling into his ear as he comes apart at the seams. 

Sometimes his fantasy sounds like The Prince, sometimes it sounds like The Beast, but no matter who it is, it always ends the same. When he finishes - panting, sweaty, and sticky - he's not only left feeling hollow and unsatisfied when the afterglow fades, but he's reminded of how cold and terribly alone he is.

But that's a whole issue for another day.

Anyways, that it's inconvenient it keeps happening is an understatement. The worst part is that it's already been a week, and he was sure he would be over it by now. It's not like that phone call with Alex or The Beast was even remotely sexy, so what the fuck is going on? 

Okay, so maybe being growled at was a _little_ sexy. 

…

Oh for the love of— _Why is this happening to me?_

He doesn't want to _want_ to be doing this.

But here he is.

Doing this.

" _Hey there, hot stuff... Looking to have some fun?"_

Fuck, he didn't miss _this_ voice at all. It's grating to his ears now that he's stone cold sober. Someone out there must find it sexy, but whoever it is, their name sure isn't Felix Fraldarius.

His heart races, drowning out the woman's automated spiel and the menu's cheesy music, as he selects the extension, closely followed by his payment options.

He can barely hear the phone ring over the blood rushing through his ears when payment goes through.

*

The Prince answers after about three rings, his voice somehow smoother than Felix remembers. _"Hello there, gorgeous…"_ he says, and the effect on Felix's body is instantaneous.

He inhales sharply, wipes his palms on the knees of his jeans and wets his lips _. What a Pavlovian response,_ he thinks in disgust.

"Hi. It's me again," he says in greeting. "I just want you to know that even if this isn't a dare, and I'm calling you for sex this time, it doesn't mean anything."

Good, Felix. Lay down ground rules early, establish your intentions first. He gives himself a mental pat on the back.

Alex is silent for a moment.

Felix holds his breath. His thoughts becoming a steady litany of _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ when his brain catches up to what his mouth just said, and he realizes he fully expected this _complete stranger_ to remember who he was after one phone call.

_Stupid stupid stupid._

He's poised to end the call, thumb at the ready, and mortified by his own idiocy when:

" _Yes…_ " Alex finally breathes after what feels like an eternity, sounding like he's trying not to laugh. _"Of course not. I'm here for whatever you need, darling. No strings attached."_

And just like that Felix's stream of consciousness quiets and gives way to his racing heartbeat once more. Alex doesn't seem at all bothered by what he said.

"Good," he replies, with more confidence than he feels. He says the first thing that comes to mind. "So, what are you wearing?"

" _What am I…?"_ Alex's breath hitches and this time he does let out a soft puff of laughter. " _Hold on a moment, this voice. Is this... Noah? It was Noah, right?"_

"Who's Noah?" Felix asks without thinking. "My name is Fe— Oh wait, shit. _Shit_ ," he mutters quietly. _For fuck's sake, that's me. I'm Noah._ "Right, that's me. That's what I told you isn't it."

 _He really does remember me._ Felix can't tell if he's horrified or incredibly touched Alex remembers his stupid pseudonym.

_"How are you?"_

"I'm… fine. I guess." Felix awkwardly begins pulling at a loose thread on his bedspread, letting the thread twist tight around his index finger before breaking it. "You?"

" _Better now that I'm talking to you,"_ he replies. _"I was hoping you would call again. Alone, this time."_

"Oh. Well. I am," he says. "Alone, I mean." 

" _Good_."

Felix sighs.

"I'm sorry about last week," he starts, working his tongue around the apology with a wince. He thinks maybe he owes Alex this much for being a good sport about it. "My friend and I were drinking and his sense of humour, as well as who he is as a person in general, is questionable at best."

_"That's sweet of you, but you don't need to apologize. I can assure you I've had much stranger interactions with some of my other clients before."_

"Maybe, but it was…not great. Also, like I said this time it's not."

_"Not…?"_

"A dare. Not a dare. It's real. I'm calling for real," he says, ears burning. "You're my itch."

 _"Your...itch?"_ Alex repeats, slowly.

"Yeah, itch. You've been bothering me all week." Was that too honest? He thinks that was probably too honest. Well. "I have to scratch you, so you'll go away."

 _"An itch,"_ Alex clarifies with amusement. _"I have been called worse things, I suppose. Very well then, scratch me. Mark me up if you like. Give me something to remember you by."_

"What? No, I don't mean _that_ kind of scratching." Or does he? "Is everything about sex for you?"

Alex laughs for real at that. It's throaty and rich, and he snorts when he does. It's _cute._

 _If you like pigs_ , Felix thinks _._

 _"You called_ **_me_**. _What were you expecting?"_

"I know that! But I also know you're capable of speaking like a normal human being. I'm not an idiot. This is just a..." He gestures into the air, even though Alex can't see it through the phone. "Anyway. That's not very _princely_ of you," he remarks with a sneer.

_"I'm sorry, I was only teasing you."_

"Do you - do you know how hard it was for me to bring myself to call this number? You should be."

 _"You have my utmost respect for your bravery, believe me,"_ he says. Felix detects some sarcasm in his tone and bristles.

"Okay, forget it, I'm hanging up if you're going to be like this. I can see this was a bad idea," he says, and he's about to do just that when Alex sighs. 

_"Noah, please wait_."

Against his better judgement, Felix does.

"What."

_"That… wasn't very kind of me to say in light of how much courage it must have taken for you to call me. I appreciate you trying, truly."_

"Good. Because—"

 _"It's all right, you don't need to explain yourself,"_ Alex says.His voice is gentle. Kind, and sincere, but maybe a little too complacent. _"As I said, I'm here to be whatever you need me to be."_ He would be nice to talk to under normal circumstances, but Felix bets he'd be a pushover in real life.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll stay. For now."

 _"Mm,"_ Alex agrees _. "I'm glad."_ And then, in a tone that promises only good things to come: _"Well then, shall we get started?"_

*

Felix makes himself comfortable, rearranging his limbs so he's lying flat against his bed with his head cradled by a stacked pair of pillows and headphones in his ears. His phone lies within reach but not close enough to get in the way.

_"We'll take it slow. I'll take care of you, but you tell me if it's ever too much, okay?"_

"Like that's ever gonna happen, " Felix says, his fingers tracing idle shapes over his stomach. Does he - should he - undress for this, or does he wait?

"Should I…take my pants off?"

_"Not yet. Did you work today?"_

"Yes," Felix mumbles, moving his earbud cables away from his chest.

_"You must be exhausted."_

"Yeah, and my back is killing me. Too much time spent at my desk, I guess."

_"Poor thing… I'll make you feel better, I promise. Why don't we start...with your shirt. I'd like to see what you're hiding this time."_

"Nothing special," he says, assessing the plain blue tank top he's wearing.

_"Well, you said you work out don't you? You were so eager to show off your arms last time."_

Heat flares in Felix's cheeks.

Saints be damned, he doesn't need that reminder.

"I do but that's not - that doesn't mean it's—" he pauses, recognizing a losing battle when he sees one. "Whatever. It's fine." 

It's not that Felix is shy about his body, and it's not as if he's some fragile maiden - Hell, he could bench-press Sylvain if he wanted to - but it seems weird to brag about that to someone who can't see you. He'd sound like he was embellishing.

"You can take it off, I guess."

_"Ah, I'll need you to give me a hand then, if you please."_

Felix, realizing he's going to have a hell of a time taking his shirt off while lying down, pulls out his headphones and sits up. He yanks it over his head with a grunt, tossing it to the floor. It does little to help relieve the flush that's taken over his body, but it's something. He pops his earbuds back in.

"There," he says. "It's done."

 _"Wonderful,"_ Alex purrs _. "Lie back and let me look at you."_

Felix does, awkwardly staring at his ceiling fan, its blades chopping lazily through the air, giving the room the slightest hint of a breeze. His bedroom is a little _too_ warm for his tastes, but the remote for the fan is out of arm's reach and he can't be assed to move off his bed to get it.

"Don't stare at me," he says, adjusting the pillow under his head. That's the appropriate response, right? This is considered playing along?

_"Mmm, I'm afraid I can't help myself. You're gorgeous, you know. Every inch of you. Your hair, your face, your body..."_

"You don't know that," Felix counters. "For all you know I'm old and ugly. Or wrinkled and bald."

 _"And I'd still find you lovely."_ Alex sighs, a wistful breath that raises goosebumps along Felix's arms. " _Gorgeous and all mine."_

"Hey, I never said I was —"

_"Do you want me to stop?"_

"Well, no, but… what are you planning to do?"

_"Whatever you want me to."_

"Huh? But that's so - why are you so - why are you like this?" He was hoping he'd be a bit more domineering than _this_. He didn't sign up to be fucked by a _boy scout._

_"Like what?"_

"Accommodating. Overly accommodating, specifically. Shouldn't you, I don't know, be more assertive?"

_"Given this is our first time together, I would rather you set the pace."_

"Me? I don't know what the hell I'm - you're the expert here. I'm just… " along for the ride, "me."

In the face of anonymous sex on the phone, Felix's real world experiences don't appear to amount to much. Any knowledge he has seems to have evaporated into thin air. He's also so fraught with nerves he thinks he might choke on them, so that doesn't help.

"This isn't my job, is what I'm trying to say."

 _"Yes, yes of course. You're absolutely_ _right,"_ Alex says _. "Then, at your discretion I'd like to continue."_

"Didn't I _just_ finish saying—"

 _"Hush,"_ Alex says gently, albeit firmly. _"Let me take care of you,"_ he repeats.

Felix snaps his mouth shut with a frown, the command sending a wave of heat to his dick. That's more like it.

" _Good boy,"_ Alex rumbles, voice dropping deep. " _I'm going to touch you now… No need to be so tense, you can relax."_

"Where?"

" _Your chest_."

Felix slowly cups his pecs with both hands, feeling ridiculous.

"I'm not tense…"

" _Not when I touch you, right? Feel you like this?"_

"I - I guess." Felix gives an experimental squeeze to one pectoral, and then the other. He rolls the muscle in his hands, soft as he relaxes. With his eyes closed and Alex's voice in his ears, he can almost suspend belief for long enough to imagine Alex's hands touching him. He makes a quiet keening noise, biting his lip to stifle the sound.

Alex hears it anyway, humming in approval.

_"Feels good doesn't it?"_

"...sure. It's….fine," he says. 

_"Mm...don't be shy, you don't have to be quiet if it does."_

"I'm not shy," he grumbles. "It's not _that_ good. It doesn't feel good enough that I - _oh."_ Felix's finger grazes over a nipple and he sucks in a gasp, shivering. _Have they always been this sensitive?_

_"Something wrong?"_

"No, that just… that was weird."

_"What was?"_

Felix flushes scarlet, chewing his bottom lip enough that it stings. "N-nipples," he mutters, offering up no further explanation. Weird word, _what a weird fucking word._

_"Hmm? What about them? Would you like me to touch them?"_

Felix tries again, tweaking the other and shuddering. "Yeah… yeah, maybe."

 _"With pleasure,"_ he murmurs _. "I'd love to touch them, taste them, even. Taste you. You'd like that too, wouldn't you?"_

Felix has no idea how to respond to that, other than croaking out a broken, _"Yes,"_ because yes, that does sound _great_.

_"I'd use my mouth on you, you know. Tease you, trail my tongue over your skin, down your chest, over your hips. Bury my face between your thighs and bite them before I pull you into my mouth…"_

Just like in his fantasies. Holy fuck. He smothers a groan with his fist.

" _Or maybe I would stay right where I am now, and make you come by playing with your nipples. Did you know some people are so sensitive they can come just from that?"_

"What? That - that doesn't sound like a thing." 

" _It's true… I've seen it before."_ He hums, thinking. " _But you seem like you'd be more of a challenge, so maybe not."_

"What do you know about me?" Felix grunts, hips twitching as each feather light touch to his chest tingles, sending sparks south to his groin, though his cock is left ignored.

" _Very little, I admit. But please, feel free to tell me more."_

"Unless you need it for this, I'd rather not."

Another sigh. " _Fine, but I must warn you, I am quite good at discovering what my lovers like. I look forward to figuring you out."_

"It's not going to be that easy."

" _Of course not."_ He can practically hear the smirk in Alex's voice. _"It wouldn't be any fun if it was."_

"Hmph."

Felix alternates between fondling his chest and nipples, and skimming his fingers down his stomach, muscles clenching the closer he gets to the waistband of his jeans. 

All the while Alex is making pleased sounds and feeding him praise. Telling Felix how beautiful he is, how good he thinks he would taste, how sweet the noises he makes are when he teases the v of his pelvis, dipping just slightly beneath the band of his briefs.

"You're taking too long you know," Felix scoffs in annoyance after several minutes of teasing and touching and no indication Alex intends to get to the main event any time soon.

Felix takes matters into his own hands, fingering the center seam of his jeans and the hard outline of his cock where it curves towards his hip through the thick material. "Snails move faster than you do. You said you were going to take care of me, but I'm not seeing it."

" _And I will, but you need to be more patient,"_ Alex chides. His tone is even, much to Felix's irritation. He's too controlled, for all Felix tries to goad him. It's not right. _"Though I suppose since this is your first time I'll go easier on you... Take off your pants, then. I can't imagine they're very comfortable with how hard you are."_

 _Finally_ , Felix thinks, hastily unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down over his hips, hissing as his knuckles drag over the edge of his cock on the way down. He kicks them off and spreads his legs, cupping his balls through his underwear.

"I could've done that at any time you know, " he says, fondling them. He's so hard now he can feel his dick threatening to poke out of his briefs. "I didn't have to wait for you to give me permission."

 _"I know, but you'll be happy you did. Waiting has its benefits."_ He pauses, a low groan falling from his lips that sets Felix's body on fire, _"Saints, you look so good like this. I want to feel you. May I?"_

Felix considers it, but ultimately decides _,_ "No," swatting at the space above his crotch as if Alex is truly reaching for him. "You don't get to touch this time." This time? _This time?_ Why did he say that? "You only get to watch because you took too long."

Felix slides his briefs down his hips as Alex chuckles in his ear. _"Punishing_ **_me_ ** _now, hm? That's hardly fair."_

"Maybe." He thumbs the head of his cock, curling his fingers around the shaft in a familiar grip and giving himself a few slow, casual strokes, hissing at some of the relief he feels. Emboldened by the prospect of turning the conversation in his favour Felix also adds, "But if you're good, maybe I'll let you touch me somewhere else."

 _"If_ **_I'm_ ** _good? Ah... that's how you'd like to play it, is it? Very well, I'll play along. Where can I touch you?"_

Felix groans as he smears precome over his cock, aiding in the slide of his hand up, down, up, down. He's wound up enough that it's hard to think straight, and he mumbles something inaudible in reply.

_"What was that?"_

"I said...I said _if_. I didn't say you could - _ah! "_ his thumb flicks over the slit and his hips jerk as a pleasant shock ripples through him. He does it again. "Didn't say you could...yet."

He settles into a rhythm, alternating between pumping his cock in languid, controlled strokes, and more erratic and rougher ones that make him hiss and squirm. He tries to imagine someone else's hand - Alex's hand, biting his nails into his inner thighs while the other pulls at his cock, just how he likes it. 

"You…" Felix whimpers on an upstroke, voice breaking as he tries to picture what Alex would do if he was here with Felix. Would he lie on his side behind Felix while Felix fucks into his hand, or would he hover over Felix, hot breath ghosting Felix's neck as he spreads kisses and bites along his throat and his collarbones…?

He clears his throat before trying again, "That picture… on your ad."

" _Hm?"_

"Is that - is it really you?"

_"...No."_

Ah… Felix can't say he's surprised, but he's perhaps a little disappointed. 

"That's… that's what I thought. It can't be real, it's too - _oh,_ _oh fuck,"_ he gasps, digging his heels into his mattress as he arches his back, twisting his wrist just right. "Too big...to be real."

Felix thinks - but he can't be sure - that Alex sounds _shy_ of all things when he says "... _No it's… I chose it because it's…"_

"It's what?"

_"...smaller. Than I am."_

Felix's brain stops, and then he starts laughing; a brittle and broken thing that sounds more like a dying animal than any sound a human could make. "Shut the fuck up," he wheezes. "No it's not."

" _Believe what you will,"_ Alex says, a little huffy. _"It's the truth."_

It can't be, because if it is then Felix is even more fucked than he thought he was. He doesn't need The Prince's (allegedly massive) cock to haunt him, too.

Except if it is true then The Prince's ( _again, allegedly massive)_ cock _will_ haunt him.

_He's not real. He's not real._

_"But that's enough about me_. _Are you still touching yourself?"_

 _Ugh, he's not real, but he_ _sounds real._

"Y-yeah…" It's almost a lie. He's slowed his hand considerably, pulling back as he edges himself closer and closer to the end but not quite ready to finish just yet.

_"Is it good?"_

"Mmn… why should you care if it is or not?"

" _So stubborn. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than bringing you pleasure. Isn't that reason enough?"_ Felix can sense some of Alex's impatience bleeding into his words now, and a rush of glee floods his system. Can he push him harder than this?

"You really want to?" He pants, increasing the speed of his movements. "Then do it. If you can."

 _"I will,"_ he decides. _"Spread your legs and bend your knees."_ The order is spoken with such authority that Felix's cock jumps in his hand. Alex tacks on a quiet, " _please_ ," as an afterthought. 

"Why?" He can't help but ask, even as he does what he's told. Alex can't see it, but if he bends his knees any more they'll up be around his ears. "Are you going to fuck me?"

" _No."_ He hears a wet sound, like someone licking their fingers. He shivers. _"Not today."_ Again, there's that unspoken promise that there will be a next time for them. _"But I'm going to play with your hole while you get yourself off. Are you ready?"_

"Do your worst." Felix coats two of his own fingers in spit, dragging them across the slick velvet of his tongue in preparation for what comes next.

*

Everything after that happens rather quickly.

" _Does that feel good, darling?"_

Felix chews his lower lip, biting back a moan, his thighs intermittently tensing and relaxing, toes clenching. His fingers - Alex's fingers - have been rubbing insistently at his hole, teasing around his rim and putting pressure on his perineum, making him crave more.

 _"I bet you're close now, aren't you?"_ Alex croons softly _. "Just a little more…"_

"Sh-shut up, I'm not - I'm not - _fuck!"_

But he is.

" _So pretty, so gorgeous. Come on, beautiful, you're almost there."_

Felix's hand moves faster on his cock, head thrown back against his pillow, sweat-soaked bangs hanging in his face. He bites down hard on his lip, but it does little to stifle the whimpers and moans he makes as he grinds the tip against his palm.

 _"Come on, come on,"_ he urges, _"You're so close, darling. So close."_

He can feel it, feel he's right on the edge, but this - he can't - he _can't —_

"Fuck, fuck - stop talking, stop talking, stop—" he gasps, slipping the two fingers between his thighs just past his rim, the extra stimulation ripping another groan from his throat. He doesn't want him to stop, he _is_ close. Saints, is he ever fucking close.

_"So good, so lovely. You're doing so well. Come on, it feels so good doesn't it? Let go. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you, let me hear you."_

Felix's hand squeezes and pulls, his hole clenches around his fingertips and his eyes close shut as he feels himself rushing towards climax. 

Finally _._ Finally. Finally.

_Finally._

A cat meows outside his door—

And reality hits Felix like a truck at full speed, reminding him where he is and what he's doing.

He really _is_ about to come, breathing down the line to a stranger over the goddess-damned telephone.

He can't.

_Fuck._

He _can't._

He feels ready to burst.

Felix scrambles for his phone, trying and failing several times to swipe it unlocked. 

By the fourth attempt he manages to get it —

_"SorryIhavetogo."_

— and abruptly hangs up on Alex.

He throws his phone away as his orgasm hits, and he comes with a muffled cry over his stomach, abs flexing as his cock twitches in his hand with each spurt. White paints his stomach and his chest in thick, warm streaks as he strokes himself through it, panting with his mouth hanging open, toes curled in pleasure. 

His legs drop to the bed once he's finished, boneless and trembling as the last vestiges of the aftershocks ebb away. He lies there with his eyes trained on the ceiling - hazy and unfocused and unable to move - for several minutes, sweat and come cooling as he catches his breath.

One of his cats claws at his bedroom door, meowing again and breaking the silence. If he looks up he's sure he'll see her sticking her paws under the door, but he can't lift his head, and the idea of standing up feels much too close to a mild form of torture right now.

 _Fuck_.

Felix swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, pushing his bangs away with a loud exhale.

He did that _, he really did that._ He just had sex with a stranger. Over the phone.

And he was too much of a coward to stay on the line until the end. 

_Pathetic_ , he thinks first.

 _Weak_ , he thinks next.

But holy shit.

He slides off the bed when he's able to - ass naked and disgusting - to go clean himself off.

He hasn't come that hard in a long time.

*

An hour and a half away, sitting at his desk in his modest Fhirdiad apartment, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd lifts his gaze from his crossword puzzle to stare at his cellphone in confusion as the line goes dead.

Call ended 

25:42

He blinks slowly, watching the numbers flash back at him before he's brought back to his home screen.

 _Well_ , he thinks with a small sigh as he taps his pencil to the page and slides his headset off, _I guess that's that._

It would have been nice to know if Noah had come by the end of the call, but based on how ornery he was throughout the duration of their session, he can't say he's surprised he never got to find out.

He wonders if Noah got what he wanted, and if he has, if Dimitri will ever hear from him again. Part of him hopes not, if only for how quick he is to pick a fight.

As Dimitri is about to call it quits for the night, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfying pop, his phone lights up with another call. He looks at the number and chuckles, plastering on a smile as he readjusts his headset over his ears. This time it's one of his regulars. 

At least he knows what to expect from this call.

He lets it ring a few times before picking up.

_"Hey, sweetheart. Back again so soon?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> staring a gofundme page to pay for dimitri's painkillers, please consider donating to a good cause  
> oh and here's some art to go with this chapter: [link](https://twitter.com/Bumblevetr/status/1284368466615717888?s=20) before i decided to change felix's shirt oops.  
> find me on twitter here: [@Bumblevetr](https://twitter.com/Bumblevetr)


	4. what's new pussy cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix goes on the most vanilla date ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you already knew/guessed who he goes on a date with  
> it was in a poll many many moons ago on twitter
> 
> even if you hate the date, please stick around for the last scene for a treat

  
  


Asshole

Sunday • 13:23

Hey. 

sup dude

I gave it some thought. 

13:27

???

wat

gave what some thought

13:28

felix? 

13:36

The date.

I'll do it.

13:39

:

:O!!

Rly??? 

13:39 

Ya. Don't make me regret thus

This*

13:42

i wont!!

Ok I sent him a message

I promise hes a good one u won't be disappointed.

13:45

I better not be

14:03 

When have I ever lies to u

hes gonna text u ok?

14:04

K

14:04

-

Felix has kickboxing on Tuesday and Thursday evenings after work. 

It's a way for him to not only stay in shape, but to unwind from his day and channel his destructive rage into something constructive. 

He's currently going through the motions, with his partner taking shots at him as he plays defense.

But he's having a problem.

A big one.

While normally Felix would be having the time of his life - throwing out the occasional taunt or insult, a swing of his own, even with the training pads - today he's almost eerily silent.

On the outside anyway.

Inside, he's screaming. 

_Look at you, Felix. Aren't you just the prettiest thing in those shorts of yours._

His mind conjuring embarrassingly lewd thoughts of a man he's never seen.

_Your arms are nice too, but those legs..._

Teasing and whispering suggestively—

"Hah!"

 _Mmm, I would love to see them wrapped around my hips as I fuck you. I bet you'd squeeze me_ **_so_ ** _tight I'd have bruises._

 _—_ and making Felix break out into a sweat that's not just from the heat of exertion.

"Take this!"

_You'd like that, wouldn't you?_

"And this, too!"

_Little slut._

…obviously it isn't _really_ Alex. The real Alex is too proper to say anything like that to Felix. 

But Goddess does Felix wish he would. And that's his curse.

Leonie lets out a piercing battle cry as her foot comes up to strike Felix's ear.

The sound of it violently rips Felix from his wandering thoughts. He has just enough time to block and step back before she throws another jab at his face. He feels the gust of air blow his bangs away from his forehead as he does, her fist mere millimetres from his nose. Any closer and she would have broken it for sure.

Practice spar or no, Leonie Pinelli likes to win, even going as far as to employ tactics she learned from their instructor (a former MMA World Champion himself) that Felix calls cowardly and underhanded, in order to do so.

Felix blocks the punch Leonie aims next at his head, then another, and another until she finishes with a kick aimed for his chest. He brings his training pad down to deflect it at the last second, stumbling when he does.

Leonie backs off and readjusts her stance, a fiercely competitive look in her eye. Sweat beads on her forehead, rolls down the side of her cheek, and Felix braces himself to block again.

"Almost had you that time," she pants, wiping her temple. "Getting a little sloppy today, are we?"

Felix scoffs, bringing up the pads. "You wish, Pinelli."

Leonie laughs and starts in on him again, a flurry of punches and kicks that force him to stand his ground, lest she drive him off the mats and into the far wall of the studio. She's strong, and normally they're pretty evenly matched, but Felix is not on his A game today. 

His defense _is_ sloppy, his form is weak, and muscle memory is the only thing ensuring he stays afloat since his brain has decided it's better suited to thinking about big dicks and fingers in his ass than his own safety. 

Sothis' fucking _tits._

Felix thought that since he'd gotten it out of his system he could resume life as normal. 

But clearly Alex is determined to continue to torture him.

 _Oh darling, you're beautiful when you're sweaty like this. This must be how you look when you get good and proper_ **_fucked_**.

_Shut up shut up shut up!_

Leonie clocks him in the stomach when he's not paying attention and it propels him backwards, knocking the wind out of him. She backs off, eyeing him warily. Fuck, that one _hurt_.

"Should we stop? Do you need a break?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

She takes it as a signal to continue, and they keep going for another few minutes.

Until Leonie swipes at his ankles and he slams into the mat like a sack of potatoes.

"Fuck!"

He's getting his ass kicked today. Holy fuck.

Leonie appears above him, offering out her gloved hand to help him up.

"What about now? Do you want to stop?" 

He wants to say no, he can keep going, but the ache in his muscles and his parched throat tell a different story.

Also, his intrusive thoughts risk creating a problem he can't just chalk up to _adrenaline,_ and he doesn't want to try to explain that to Leonie of all people.

Not that she wouldn't understand. Felix is sure she's seen a dick once in her life, or at least _knows_ about them.

So he says, "Yeah, I could use one," instead.

They remove their gear and bring their water bottles with them to sit on the steps outside the studio. The breeze coming off the Oghma mountains helps to dispel some of the summer heat Charon gets this time of year, and dries the sweat off their brows.

Leonie taps her bottle between her knees, watching the cars go by. Felix takes a sip from his, quelling the dryness of his throat.

"Are you okay? You don't seem so hot today," she says after several minutes of comfortable silence. "Normally I can't land a hit like that on you."

"Hm? Me? I'm fine," Felix says. "Work was just… work, that's all."

"Huh. Worse than usual?"

"Something like that."

"Hmm…well if you're not feeling it, I can always ask Byleth if he wants to train with me."

"It's not that I'm not, I just—" He huffs, annoyed that he can't articulate what's bothering him without having to dive headfirst into a very awkward conversation. "You know what? Maybe. You guys both have fights coming up, so it's better if you train with him. I'll do some weight-training instead."

Leonie looks at him. Her messy red hair spills out from its ponytail and waves in the wind around her face, and her usual smile is replaced by a frown. 

"It should be you, you know," she says. 

Felix gives her a questioning glance.

"Fighting. I mean, I've definitely earned my place and I'm ecstatic to do it, but you're even more passionate about the thrill of a fight than Byleth is. Do you think you'll ever…?"

"No." His tone is firm, resolute. He knows it's not the answer Leonie is hoping for, but it is one she expects. "I haven't changed my mind. I miss it, yeah, but I can't. It's enough that I still come here, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She exhales, places a hand on his shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry for bringing it up. Let's talk about something else."

He gives her a small, thankful smile and she beams brightly back at him, before diving into a different topic altogether.

They discuss training for a while, and adjustments Leonie needs to make to her diet before her next weigh-in.

Then Leonie brings up a house party a friend of hers is supposed to be hosting next weekend.

"You should come!" she insists. "It's a chill crowd, and I'm sure Claude won't mind if I bring someone. He's always like, 'the more the merrier!' anyway."

Felix, who up until now was only half paying attention, perks up at the name. It's familiar. 

"Claude?" he repeats. "Did you say Claude?"

"Yeah! Haven't I mentioned him to you before? I swear I have." She rubs her chin. "Maybe not? He's a friend of mine from out of town."

"No, I don't think you have." The cogs in his brain turn. "It's just," he mutters, as Leonie takes a drink from her water bottle, "I'm supposed to be going out tomorrow night with a guy named Claude."

Water dribbles down her chin and soaks the front of her shirt.

"What?"

"Weird coincidence, right?"

"Yeah..." she replies, wiping her chin. "Probably a different Claude though. What's his last name? Do you know?"

"Uh…" Felix pats his pockets for his phone, then remembers he left it inside. "Von-something."

"...von Riegan?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Leonie stares at him. "You're going on a date. With Claude von Riegan."

"Yes?"

Her face pinches into something that's a mix of confusion and exasperation. Felix isn't sure what to make of it.

"But I thought— Huh." 

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." She puts her smile back on and squeezes his shoulder again. "I just didn't realize he was single again. You'll like him. Claude's a good guy."

"So I've heard," Felix says. 

"And it's true! We've been friends for years." She snaps her fingers. "And if he's your date, then he definitely won't mind you coming to the party!"

"I never said I was going."

"Uh huh. See if you'll be saying that after your _date_ , lover boy."

Felix gets up without a word.

He hears Leonie cackle at him as he goes back inside.

His friends are the worst.

-

Work flies by in a maelstrom of phone calls and tax receipts and insurance forms, and before he knows it, it is officially 'tomorrow night' and Felix is getting ready for his date. A date with a real live human being. Flesh and blood. Bones and guts. Tangible. 

And even if he's not optimistic about his prospects, at least Alex will no longer torment his every waking moment if he goes through with this. After all, he'll be so focused on someone else he won't have time to think about him.

Right?

 _You called the number. You got it out of your system. It's time to move on with your life,_ he tells himself, standing up straighter in front of the bathroom mirror. _You got this, Felix._

He brushes his teeth, throws on a pair of jeans and high collared t-shirt, styles his hair into an equally high ponytail and heads out the door, twirling his keys.

-

The first thing Felix says upon meeting Claude von Riegan outside the restaurant they'll be eating at is, apropos of nothing, "I thought you'd be taller."

And the second thing he says is, "But you do have nice eyebrows."

Claude blinks several times at him, temporarily stunned into silence.

"...Thank you?" he says, unsure. "You must be Felix."

"That's me."

Felix is notorious for his bad first impressions, so he's probably already off to a great start.

It is true though. Claude is not much taller than he is, but he's broad in the shoulders and his yellow dress shirt leaves little to the imagination, clinging to well defined shoulder muscles like a fucking wetsuit after a dip in the ocean.

_Can he breathe in that?_

Felix wonders (as Claude shakes his hand and ushers him inside to their table) what it is he does for a living, and, distantly, if he's the kind of guy that's obsessed with meal prep and how many reps he can feasibly complete in under a minute at the gym. And not like, an actual human being.

Then again, he knows Sylvain and Sylvain isn't exactly the gym rat type. He's more of the sit on his ass and eat hot chip and lie kind of guy.

-

As it turns out Claude is not a gym rat in the strictest sense of the word, but he _does_ do competitive archery. And he works for a world youth organization. It also turns out that he knows both Sylvain and Ingrid.

"You're everything and nothing like Sylvain said you would be," he's saying, as they share a massive plate of spinach dip and fried pita chips as their appetizer.

With a resounding crunch and all the finess of a drunk, Felix stops midbite to look at him, crumbs tumbling out of his mouth, and wonders what the fuck _that's_ supposed to mean.

"What did he tell you?" he demands, hand coiling around his wrapped utensils. If Sylvain's been gossiping about him he's going to fucking kill him.

Claude starts counting off on his fingers. "That you're prickly, you're anti-social, that you love getting into fights and that you're…"

He tapers off and leans forward, hands clasped beneath his chin to smile at Felix. Felix scowls, biting back a comment about the playful twinkle in Claude's green eyes that spells out trouble with a capital _Fuck you, Felix, you're not going to like what he says next._

"...incredibly cute."

...and he's right, because Felix is _always_ right. 

Except when he's wrong, which is, of course, _never._

Would it be bad social etiquette to throw a fork at someone on your first date? 

Probably. 

He probably shouldn't do that.

He feels his face flush with what he knows is an ugly shade of puce and refrains. Fuck Sylvain. Where did he find this guy? Felix is a grown man. Felix has a PhD in talking shit and a black belt in kicking ass, he's not _cute._

 _This is why you're still single_ , Sylvain drawls.

 _No_ , _I'm single because I want to be._

_Sure, buddy, you just keep telling yourself that._

And then it's The Prince's voice he hears next and— no, no, no he's not going to think about him right now—

 _Manners, Felix,_ he chides _. Say thank you._

Shit.

"Thanks," he grits out.

"I admit," Claude says, smile turning sheepish, "that last one was all me, he didn't tell me what you looked like. Wouldn't even show me a picture."

_Well duh, it's a blind date, of course he didn't._

_Behave,_ Alex says.

_Fuck off. Stop telling me what to do._

"Likewise."

"Are you disappointed?"

"What?"

"About me. You seemed disappointed when you saw me."

"No. You haven't given me any reason to be." Felix pauses. "Yet."

"Oh? So there's still time, eh?" Claude grins at him, disarming and altogether very bright with far too many teeth. 

Felix huffs and wipes the crumbs from his mouth. "There's always time to disappoint me," he mutters. "Ask Sylvain. He does it all the time."

Claude laughs at that. Felix doesn't know why. He's not funny.

"You might be right. Also, do you want the rest of this?" Claude points to the remainder of the dip, and a few broken pita chips. Felix considers them for all of a second and shakes his head.

"No. I don't really like spinach. Go ahead."

-

They place their order for their entreés and for a couple more drinks. Conversation is casual.

Claude talks about work, his hobbies, and asks Felix about his future plans and ambitions. Felix awkwardly taps the table with his fork, and evades answering some of the more personal, probing questions.

"You don't like talking about yourself much, do you?"

"It's only the first date," Felix states flatly. "Do _you_ tell your life story to someone you just met?"

He grins. "Touché. You're cautious. I like that."

"Ingrid might disagree."

"That's because Ingrid is _Ingrid_ ," Claude says, rolling his eyes.

Felix feels a twinge of irritation at that. 

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Easy..." Claude says softly. "Careful with those claws, Kitty cat—" _Kitty cat?!_ "It's nothing really bad. I'm just saying she's a little too preoccupied with how she thinks people _should_ act, and it comes off insensitive sometimes."

That may be true, and he doesn't disagree, but - "Never call me that again."

"Call you what?"

" _That_."

"Kitty cat?"

" _Yes,_ " he hisses.

"Sorry. You remind me of one, that's all."

Felix isn't a cat. He's a _wolf_ , dammit.

 _Meow_ ~ Alex teases _. Something wrong, kitten?_

Felix shifts uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his ears turn pink.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you don't like nicknames?"

"No."

"No, you do, or no, you don't?"

"I _don't_. Don't even think about it."

-

Talk turns to swords once their meals make it to their table (because of course it does), and Felix has moved on to his second old-fashioned, feeling his tongue loosen up enough to ask Claude about his alleged weapon collection.

"Oh right, Sylvain did mention you're something of a sword fanatic didn't he?" Claude says. His chin rests casually atop his open palm. 

Felix delicately scrapes off the asparagus decorating the top of his trout with his knife. If Ingrid was here he would have given them to her. They're cooked just the way she likes them.

"Aficionado," Felix sniffs. "Fanatic implies I don't know how to rein in my—" obsessions "—interests. Which I do. I like swords a normal amount." 

He glares at Claude, challenging him to disagree. Claude merely looks amused, twirls his pasta around his fork and says nothing. Which is somehow worse. Like he's laughing at Felix on the inside.

"And by the sounds of it I'm not alone," Felix continues. "He said you have an entire room dedicated to fine weaponry." Okay Sylvain didn't say it _quite_ like that but that was the implication. 

"I might," Claude says evasively. "Do you play a lot of video games, Felix?"

The question, seemingly out of nowhere, catches Felix off guard. 

"What?"

"Video games. Fantasy maybe, or tactical RPGs?"

Still not seeing the connection, Felix furrows his brows. "No, not really. Why?"

"Just curious. I thought maybe you were into fantasy. I know I was - still am, actually, with novels and movies, mainly." His eyes glint with mischief. "I thought we might be kindred spirits that way since we share a similar interest. A weapon obsession fueled by our mutual love of fantasy."

"I don't really have time to play video games," he admits. "I just watch them. I watch let's plays on YouTube." Felix fails to mention that the reason he rarely plays is because he's absolutely _terrible_ at them. "Horror games, mostly."

"Into the spooky stuff are you?"

"None of it is _that_ scary." 

His nightmares speak otherwise, but Claude doesn't need to know about those. What grown man still thrashes about in his bed while dreaming of the boogeyman anyway?

Metaphorically speaking, the boogeyman could, of course, mean a lot of things, but in Felix's case it's quite literally the fictional entity himself. 

Most nights.

Sometimes it's his brother, and that's worse.

"They help me sleep," he lies.

Judging by his face, Claude doesn't believe him, but he doesn't remark on it either. Instead he takes a careful sip of his wine, assessing Felix over the rim of his glass. 

Or maybe he's just looking at him, and Felix is reading too much into the calculating expression that appears to be a permanent fixture of Claude's countenance.

Either way, it's unnerving to be stared at and scrutinized so closely. As if Claude is peeling back his skin, layer by layer to see what's underneath.

"Don't do that," he snaps. 

"Do what?" 

Claude blinks innocently at him, features smoothing out into something much more innocuous as a result.

"Stare," Felix says. "It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like it."

"Ah. Sorry. Force of habit," Claude says. He twirls his fork again, head tilting. "But I have to say, you have some very unique features to your face I can't help looking at."

"No wonder you're friends with Sylvain," Felix mutters, stabbing his fork into his fish and taking a large chunk to shove into his mouth. "You're both tactless and careless with your compliments."

"Tactless and careless," Claude parrots with a laugh. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I like you, Felix. You speak your mind. I think we're going to get along just fine."

-

Over the course of their meal, Felix learns two important things about Claude:

One, that he asks a lot more questions than Felix has answers for.

And two, that he isn't as forthcoming with information about himself when Felix asks _him_ things. He deflects, is purposely vague, or only answers on a superficial level when it comes to deeper questions.

If Felix were anyone else it would bother him, but like Claude, Felix is already someone who plays his cards close to his chest. He suspects that telling Claude something to this effect earlier is the reason why he's being just as secretive in return.

But it doesn't make the date less pleasant - far from it, in fact. Claude is charming in his own right without being excessive, is well-spoken, and has a calm voice and a face that's easy on the eyes. Felix doesn't mind him. 

Leonie was right. He seems like a good guy.

The secrecy just leaves a lot more unspoken between them, that's all. Felix can deal with that.

After they finish their entreés and order coffee, Claude takes a look at the dessert menu and orders a slice of cake to go with it.

When it arrives, it's such a large piece that not even Claude can hide his surprise when their server places it between them.

It's big enough for two people.

Felix stares down the molten monstrosity of a cake, its dense chocolate outer layer making his stomach churn.

"Oh. Shit," Claude says with a frown. "It looks like we'll have to share this. I didn't realize it was going to be that big."

"Absolutely not," Felix says with a sneer, pushing it so it's closer to Claude's side of the table. "I don't like sweets."

"Not even chocolate?"

"No."

Claude eyes the cake and taps the handle of his fork to his chin. "That's a problem then isn't it?"

-

In the end Claude manages to eat about half the cake before he throws in the towel and gives it up for collection when their server comes to check on them. It's a valiant effort Felix silently commends him for.

"I think that's enough for me," he says. "Can we get the bill, please?"

Their server takes away the plate and coffee cups and Claude sags back in his chair. 

"I think I ate too much," he groans, running a hand over his belly. "If I fall asleep during the movie, you'll know why. How are we for time, anyway?"

Felix snorts and checks his phone, pointedly ignoring a series of unread messages from Sylvain and one from his father. He does a double-take at the time.

"Uh… we're doing shit," he answers. "Show started a half hour ago."

Claude sits up with a start. "Really? Crap."

-

They split the bill and Felix snatches up the candies that come with it, stuffing them into his pocket to give to Sylvain later.

Leaving the restaurant in a hurry, they make their way across the parking lot to the theatre. Felix checks the time again. Forty-five minutes into the movie.

"No point trying to make it now," Claude says, swiping through the movie selections. "We can still get our tickets for the next one, or see something else if you want?"

"Let's just get them for the next showing."

They do, but with at least an hour to spare, they're left wondering what to do in the meantime.

Claude gestures to the attached lobby arcade.

"What do you think?" Claude says. "Want to kill some time here?"

Felix glances at the flashing, colourful LEDs of the arcade entrance, sights and sounds familiar as his eyes rove from game to game.

He feels a pang in his chest. 

Annie used to love coming to places like this. 

He took her to an arcade on one of their first dates, too.

~

_Annette drags Felix by his sleeves towards the strongman game, begging, "Please, Felix. Pleaaaaase. I promise you'll love it!"_

_"I don't play these kinds of games," he says, but allows her to pull him along anyway._

_"Come on, are those muscles of yours just for show, or are you going to use them?" she taunts, picking up the rubber mallet. She looks at it thoughtfully. "Actually, on second thought, can I go first?"_

_He smiles faintly and makes a go ahead gesture before folding his arms. "Yes. I'll be here to supervise if anything goes wrong."_

_She makes a face and sticks her tongue out at him. "Rude."_

_Annette shows surprising strength for such a tiny little thing as she readies the hammer over her head and takes aim, slamming it down hard on the target pad. The lights of the tower flare to life and rocket upwards, ending in a triumphant chime as they reach the top._

_Her delighted laughter - infectious as it is beautiful - as she exclaims, "Look Felix! I did it! I did it! Did you see me?" strikes his heart true, and it's in that moment that he realizes he's fallen hard._

_"Yeah," he says, absolutely love-struck. "You sure did."_

~

"...Felix?"

Felix blinks away the memory.

Green eyes replace blue as Claude's face swims into view, one brow arched in question.

"There you are. Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," Felix says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. He clears his throat and looks away. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

-

" _You piece of shit!"_

Play time is going exceptionally well.

Felix slams the flat of his fist against the plexiglass bubble of the most infuriating crane game he's ever played in his life. This is attempt number _six._

"Do you want that?" Claude asks with amusement. 

He points to a calico kitten plush sitting atop a pile of various puppies and hamsters and other such adorable creatures. One that Felix has definitely _not_ been eyeballing, nor has he been gunning for since he started playing the game.

Claude's been absent for most of Felix's attempts, but witnessing his mounting frustration must have caught his interest and called him over.

 _It's rigged_ , Felix thinks, throwing up his hands in disbelief when he tries again and the claw slants uselessly, gripping at nothing. Attempt number seven is also a resounding failure.

"I'm pretty good at these," Claude insists. "I bet I could get it for you if you want."

Felix scoffs. "No." Yes.

_What do we say when we want something, Felix?_

_Go the fuck away already!_

Alex tuts at him. _Wrong._

_Yes?_

_Almost there._

_...please?_ Felix tries, feeling stupid even in his own head.

_Good boy. Much better._

"What would I do with it anyway?" 

Claude shrugs, but he's already pulling out his arcade card to swipe it through the reader. 

"Whatever you want, I'm sure. Keep it? Give it away to a friend, maybe?"

"I don't have any friends," Felix mutters. 

His eyes follow the claw that Claude guides with perfect precision in spite of himself. A small part of him quietly hopes Claude is as good as he says he is.

(He is.)

-

Felix stares at Claude in disbelief as he holds out the plush for Felix to take. Plucked from the pile on his first try.

"What do you want to try next?" he asks. Nonchalant, as if he hasn't just conquered the source of Felix's consternation for the past fifteen minutes.

Felix turns his new friend over in his hands. It's really cute and - bringing it to rub against his cheek - very soft. He shoots Claude a glare when he hears him snicker.

"A racing game," he tells him. It'll give him the chance to kick Claude's ass and rebuild some of his shattered dignity.

Felix is _very_ good at racing games. 

He laps Claude and comes in first every single time. 

-

An hour passes quickly, and soon enough they're huddled side by side in a crowded theatre, armed with a large bag of popcorn. 

The lights dim, previews roll, and Felix settles in to watch whatever action flick they decided on. He can't remember the name.

And of course, five minutes in, that's when the giggling and chatting starts. An annoying group of teenagers, that _won't shut the fuck up_ no matter how many times people shush them, is sitting right behind them.

The movie isn't great, but the least they can do is show some respect towards the people who are _actually_ enjoying it.

About a half hour in, and too many kicks to the back of his chair later, Felix can't take it anymore.

"This movie is terrible," Felix tells Claude. "And I'm two seconds away from beating the shit out of these kids."

Claude whispers, glancing back at the group with a grimace, "I was thinking the same thing. Wanna sneak out and see what's playing next door?"

Felix considers it, chewing on a handful of popcorn and nods. "Yeah."

As they take their leave of their seats, Felix pours the rest of his popcorn on the heads of the kids behind them (he can hear Ingrid and Leonie both shrieking at him about wasting perfectly good food, but it serves them right) and books it down the stairs - the teens' angry and indignant cries following him like music to his ears.

They exit the theatre into an empty hall, laughing.

"I can't believe you did that, I paid good money for that popcorn," Claude says. He doesn't sound at all upset though.

"Hmph. Worth it."

"Oh hey, looks like you're in luck!" Claude points at the next door over. "This one's a horror movie. Want to check it out?"

"' _The Hegemony Prophecy?'_ Is this that one that's supposed to be based on real life events?"

"Something like that."

Felix frowns, folding his arms. "I saw the trailers for it. It looks stupid."

"Then what about that one?" He points to another poster. "It's a psychological thriller about a hitman who suffers from amnesia." 

"Weird. But anything is better than whatever that garbage was." Felix gestures behind them with his thumb.

They slip in, just as the previews end.

-

This movie isn't great either. But at least there are no kids this time. It's pretty empty by comparison, actually.

Felix partly pays attention, partly daydreams, and partly worries Claude is going to try to make a move on him while they're sitting there in the dark. 

Claude does no such thing. No hand holding, no arm around his shoulder. Nothing.

But Felix still occasionally catches him stealing a glance his way, unabashedly giving him a tiny smile and a wave when he's caught.

(Felix can't help but wonder, as the movie reaches its climax, if Alex does specific kind of roleplay like this, too.)

The movie ends on a high note: the protagonist and his partner skip the country to live a luxurious life full of sandy beaches and endless summer and live happily ever after or something. 

Marketing itself as a psychological thriller was, in Felix's opinion, rather ambitious.

-

"I have no idea what the hell we just watched," Felix says as soon as they leave the theatre with the rest of the patrons, "and I'm kind of pissed it was somehow still a lot better than the movie we actually came to see, too."

It's dark out when they reach the exit, and Claude insists on opening the door for Felix - _like a gentleman -_ and walking him to his car. He patiently nods along to Felix's bitching on the way there as he eviscerates the plot and the characters.

"But aside from the movie, you had fun, right?"

Felix, hands suspended in the air as he's mid-rant about the shoddy writing, stops. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

Did he?

He kind of did, didn't he?

"Yeah. The food was good, and you're not bad. Company, I mean."

They slow down as they come up beside Felix's car. 

Felix turns to say goodnight and almost knocks his head into Claude who's suddenly very _very_ close. A playful smile curls his mouth upwards when Felix quietly gasps in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he says. "You're not bad company either."

"Thanks…" Felix stares at him, feeling cornered. "I guess I better…" his voice trails off, eyes narrowing as he follows the sharp bend of Claude's jaw - not a hint of facial hair out of place even this close - because he can't meet his eyes. He really is handsome.

Felix isn't sure why he does it.

Maybe it's the fatigue. 

Maybe it's the spice of Claude's cologne.

Or maybe he does it to quiet the voice that's been harassing him all night. 

Whatever it is, it compels Felix to lean in to bridge the gap between their bodies, rest his hand on Claude's shoulder, and kiss him.

-

Felix floats on the way home.

But not in the euphoric kind of way.

It feels more like he's reached a really bad high and he's having an unwanted out of body experience. Disbelief and some honest-to-Sothis fear settle in the pit of his stomach. 

He kissed Claude.

And not only that, when Claude had asked, "Can I call you?" after playing tonsil hockey with Felix in the middle of the parking lot against his goddess-damned car, Felix said yes. 

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?" he asks the stuffed calico buckled into his passenger seat. "Why did I do that?"

The plushy doesn't answer. Its giant eyes remain vacant.

And, as if to add insult to injury as he agonizes over his rational decision making skills yet _again,_ he realizes that his car is running on empty when he's about halfway home.

 _Dammit_. He's _tired_.

With an annoyed sigh, Felix pulls into a gas station a few blocks from his apartment to fill it up. 

Leaning against his car as the tank fills, he subconsciously touches the bow of his top lip with the knuckles of one hand; the echo of kisses still raw and stinging. It's a testament to his own tumultuous state of mind and touch starvation that he let himself be kissed on a first date. Normally he's more cautious than that. 

Claude seems nice, but also a little like he's hiding something. 

But then, maybe that's part of his appeal.

Felix notices the same qualities in Claude he's seen in Sylvain for years and recognizes them for what they are, however, and it makes him leery.

Well, however this plays out, he'll be prepared. He's not afraid to rebuff a stranger if he needs to. Besides, he can sleep on it tonight, and if by morning he changes his mind he'll tell him he's not interested.

 _He did seem to like you,_ Alex whispers.

Yeah, but so have other people before him, and so will others after him.

_He's not special. Cut it out._

His thoughts quiet after that.

The pump signals his tank is full with a _thunk_ and Felix replaces the nozzle, caps the tank, and is about to leave when he also remembers he hasn't bothered to do groceries this week either. There's nothing in his fridge for breakfast tomorrow.

 _Ugggh_. _Come on._

He abandons his vehicle and pushes open the door to the station's twenty-four hour convenience with a yawn. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks to the refrigerated section. 

A man stands in front of a display of energy drinks, nearly taking up the width of the tiny aisle. Felix squeezes around him best he can, coming up on his left side. A quick glance reveals that he appears to be comparing the ingredient lists of two different cans, mumbling under his breath. 

"They're both the same," Felix tells him, unsolicited. "Both crap, and loaded with sugar." 

"Oh!" The stranger startles and looks (down, he notices with some irritation) at Felix. 

_He's...big_ , Felix's brain decides.

And young. He looks as exhausted as Felix feels now that the weight of the day has finally caught up to him, but a lot hotter. His blond hair, where it hangs loose around his face, is washed out by the fluorescent lights above, and his eye, the one that's visible, is very blue.

Felix, never one for direct eye contact, drops his gaze immediately. He notices the man's large hands have dented the cans he's holding. 

"You may be right," the stranger says, "but I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice with the drive I have ahead of me."

Felix snorts and moves further down the display to inspect a shelf of pre-wrapped sandwiches. 

"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug. "I'd try five hour energy then, if I were you."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Sure."

He feels the weight of the man's eye on him as he checks the expiry dates on the sandwiches but ignores it in favour of further perusing the shelves.

 _Ham or turkey?_ is the current debate. _Or maybe something else?_

He picks up a turkey sandwich and frowns at its contents.

_Ew, this one has tomato in it._

He puts it back and picks up another.

By the time Felix decides what to get, the man is long gone and Felix is the proud new owner of a roast beef sandwich, a carton of eggs, and a package of bacon. He'll do some proper groceries later, but this will have to do for now.

He pays, climbs back into his car and heads home.

-

His phone buzzes as he's settling in for the night. 

It's a text from Claude.

Eyebrows

Thursday • 00:42

Hey, I had a great time tonight.

Let's meet up again soon?

Try not to work too hard tomorrow, and sweet dreams!

He reads it a couple times without replying, and opens up Sylvain's texts next.

  
  


Asshole

Wednesday • 20:38

Good luck w/ ur date tonight buddy!

O ya I forgot u can sos me if u need it btw

Just gimme a heads up like 15 min b4

(Got my own date baaaybeee xcdpt hell leave if I make up an excuse that i gotta go)

k its been like two hours since I texted u so ur either dead or ur taking a piss

22:52

Felix did u die

Did Claude kill u

Should I call the police

23:30

I kno I said he's good but sometimes its like on those crime shows where u think u kno someone n they're like actual serial killers

23:31

O w8

Maybe ur just busy ehehhehe

;) 

dont do anything i wouldnt do

23:47

Felix rolls his eyes at Sylvain's texts, and doesn't bother checking his father's message.

He types out a quick 'I'm not dead' to Sylvain, sets his phone on his nightstand and rolls over to sleep. He'll answer them properly tomorrow.

-

That night Felix dreams of Claude and their date.

But this time when Claude pushes Felix up against his car, it's The Prince who growls at him and thrusts his tongue into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a date can't solve all your problems, kitty cat - i mean, mr. wolf


	5. guess i'll go fuck myself (politely)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to no one's surprise, felix is still a horny toad  
> i mean wolf  
> i mean cat in heat  
> i mean -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felix can do it (oh wait, no he can't)

The weekend arrives quickly.

It's like he blinked and it was suddenly Saturday.

"So, how was your date the other night?"

Felix slams the kitchenette drawer harder than he means to, despite anticipating the question he knew would come up when he invited Ingrid over for dinner.

He almost asks how she knew he had a date, until he remembers a) she's friends with Claude, and b) Sylvain would have already told her about it.

"It was...fine," he says with some hesitation, holding a large cutting knife to the steel he pulled from the drawer and slowly sharpening the blade. "We had dinner, went to the arcade, saw a couple of shitty movies. Which, by the way, that hitman movie you wanted to see? Don't bother. Wait until it's out of theatres to watch it."

"Really? Was it bad?" Ingrid looks disappointed, leaning her elbows on his tiny dining table, and pouting with her chin in hands. "That sucks. I was really looking forward to seeing it." 

"Don't. It's not what you think it is, trust me."

"I do! But that doesn't make me any less disappointed," she says. "What about the rest, then? What did you think of Claude?"

Felix raises an eyebrow at her, finding it strange she would even ask, considering how little interest she's shown in Felix's personal life in the past. Even when he was dating Annie, Ingrid was never intrusive. Never poked and prodded him for more information than he was willing to offer.

But lately (and by lately he means the last year or so) she's developed a rather matronly habit of checking in on him. And it's not just her either - Sylvain does it too.

His friends have always been perceptive, but as of late it's alarming how they always seem to know when something's off.

He both appreciates and despises it.

He just hopes they don't find out about the Alex thing anytime soon.

"I have a lot of thoughts about him," he says, "not all of which are positive. He's…" Felix purses his lips, grabbing an onion to peel and chop. "Do you ever feel like someone's studying you under a microscope? Or like they're trying to dissect you with their eyes?"

"Sometimes," Ingrid replies. "Why? Do you feel that way around Claude?"

"Yeah," he mutters, vigorously slicing the onion into thin pieces before angling his knife to cut them into small cubes. "Does he do that to everybody?"

Ingrid shrugs, leaning back in her chair. "For as long as I've known him, he's always been like that. In fact," she adds, "I would even say it's a good thing. He's most observant of the people he's interested in." Ingrid laughs a little, covering her mouth with her hand. "You're not going to like this, but I think he's a lot like you that way."

His nose wrinkles. She's right. He doesn't like that. 

"He did say he thinks we'd get along fine," Felix muses. "Maybe that's why."

"Maybe," she agrees. "I'd say he likes you. Are you going to see him again?"

Felix takes a deep breath, ignoring the slight burn in his eyes as he sweeps the onion into a bowl and sets it aside. He looks Ingrid's way, his grip on the knife's handle so tight his knuckles turn white. For some reason he expects her to judge him when he answers.

This is the first time in years Felix has ever agreed to meet someone after the first date.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm supposed to be going to his place next weekend."

Ingrid perks up. "The party?" she asks, barely able to contain her surprise.

Felix instantly feels silly for worrying.

"Yeah."

"Oh, that's great! We can all go together then."

Their discussion then turns to their carpooling plans for the next weekend and away from Felix's personal life, and he is eternally grateful for it. Felix makes a mental note to text Leonie later.

He can already hear her saying _, 'I told you so'_ when he does.

*

Throughout the following week leading up to the party, Felix engages in his favourite form of self-flagellation he likes to call _fantasizing about Alex all fucking day._

Which includes calling him, too.

And he tries.

Oh does he try.

Except whenever he does, he remembers how his last session with him ended and his mortification stops him from actually going through with any of the phone calls.

Each aborted attempt he makes, he quickly hangs up before the menu even has the opportunity to present his options, and chooses instead (like a coward) to text Claude, or any of his friends. Hoping at least they will be able to distract him from his idle and, quite frankly, annoying thoughts.

And it works out pretty well for a while,

...until it doesn't.

The night before he's going to Claude's house party, to be exact.

 _This is a bad idea,_ Felix thinks.

A very bad idea.

But his dick can't help itself.

He makes sure the cats are fed before he closes his door, strips off his clothes, and lies on his bed with his headphones in his ears. He tries not to think too hard about the bottle of lubricant sitting on his nightstand beside him (just in case) as he picks up his phone to call.

While Felix is well aware that it isn't necessary for him to be _good_ at this phone sex thing (because let's face it, is it even real sex?), anything less than his best is unacceptable and if he's going to do it he is going to _master_ it.

There is no other option.

His friends call this part of his personality obsessive, but Felix would rather be obsessive than not care at all. He's already paid the price in the past for his apathy.

_Besides, it's not being obsessive, it's called being passionate._

Of course, the main reason he calls (and not even on pain of death would he admit to it) is because he _wants_ to do _The Sex_ with Alex.

But that's neither here nor there.

So what if he can't stop thinking about it? That doesn't mean anything. Felix just needs to...blow off steam. 

Again.

Unfortunately for Felix - and Claude too, he supposes - it doesn't seem to matter that his date was decent (or that he'll be seeing Claude soon) because his brain decided all on its own 'yeah that was nice' and put Claude on the back burner anyway, despite whatever chemistry they may share. 

In favour of a faceless sex worker.

Yikes.

Which isn't fair to Claude by any means, and honestly he deserves someone _much_ better than Felix but—

Ah.

They had one date. They're not official. There's no need to think about it too much.

He has more important things to worry about right now, anyway (namely, _The Sex_ ) and this time Felix promises himself he won't lose his nerve at the last second.

*

 _"Hello, Noah,"_ The Prince answers. 

Felix startles so badly he almost hangs up.

What is this now, mistake number four? Five? Six? Felix can't remember.

 _"I'm so glad you called,"_ he says, warm like honey, _"I missed you."_

Goddess, he hates what Alex's voice does to him. Hates how it makes him tingle all over. Like the beginning of a bad allergic reaction.

"I didn't," Felix replies, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. "You've cursed me and my dick."

 _"I'm sorry?"_ Alex says, clearly taken aback.

"I'm not looking for an apology," Felix flatly states, "I want you to take responsibility for what you've done to me."

 _"I... see."_ Alex snorts. " _It's lovely to hear from you, too."_

"How did you know it was me, anyway?"

 _"Your number_."

His number? He panics for a second. He didn't give Alex his —

Oh wait, call display.

But _still._

"You memorized it? I've only called you like three times?"

" _Four_ ," Alex corrects.

"Huh?"

_"Four times."_

_Uh..._

"No, I'm pretty sure this is only the third time."

" _Ah..."_ he replies, as if he's just had some kind of epiphany. _"Nevermind, you are correct. My mistake."_

O...kay?

"That's weird," Felix says. 

"... _What is?"_

"That you're keeping track."

 _"Oh."_ Alex sounds...relieved? Felix wonders what that's all about. _"Is it? I always pay attention to my clients_."

Ah yes, that's right. Felix is just another dollar sign. Another nobody in a long queue of horny individuals.

That's fine.

"Do you always remember their names?"

Alex is quiet a moment before answering. " _No,"_ he says, _"only the ones who stand out, or my regulars if they give me one."_

Well. Felix isn't a regular, so does that mean he stands out?

"So I guess I stand out then."

_Felix, shut up._

_"You could say that."_

_Stop preening._

_"You know…"_ Alex muses, interrupting Felix's thoughts _, "I was under the impression you weren't going to call me again."_

"What?"

_"You hung up on me last time."_

There's no accusation there, but Felix winces regardless.

"Oh. Yeah, but there was a really good reason for that. I swear."

 _"It's alright. I'm not offended. As I've told you_ _before, you don't need to explain yourself to me."_

"That's it?" Felix stares at his phone, incredulous. "You're not curious why? At all?"

_"Should I be?"_

Felix, inexplicably, is offended. He's interesting enough that Alex remembers him, but not enough that he actually cares? What if something awful had happened to Felix?

"I don't know. Maybe? I would be."

 _Felix_ , he thinks. _Felix, are you listening to yourself right now? Of course he doesn't care, he doesn't know you._

_"It happens with some of my other clients, but it's usually a dropped call and they eventually call back. I only thought it was strange because you never did, but I can see I was mistaken."_

"Oh. Okay, well, I'm back," he mumbles. "And it's not going to happen this time."

 _"That's reassuring,"_ Alex says, not unkindly. _"I do enjoy your company."_ Felix hears the smile in his reply. _"So, what are you up to this evening?"_

"Nothing, I'm just - hanging out." Felix grimaces. "At home. Alone. I was bored, so I decided I'd call. And if you weren't busy then I thought we could... you know."

 _"Is that so?"_ he murmurs, interested. _"You're so sweet, thinking of me like this."_

"Shut up," Felix says, heat flaring in his cheeks. "Don't make it weird." He squirms as his hands trail over his hip bones and down to dig into his thighs, cock stirring in interest at the anticipation of what he's about to do. 

_"Sorry—"_ he doesn't sound sorry _"—I'll do my best not to. Would you like to get started right away, or would you like more time to prepare?"_

"The fuck is that supposed to mean? _'Prepare?'_ "

_"You were very nervous last time. I thought perhaps you might need to ease your way into things again."_

"No, I don't need to. I'm already ready. Also naked, and cold." Felix pauses, scouring his brain for something that might sound _sexy_ or _enticing_ to add on. There's a pick up line applicable here isn't there? A come on? "You should do something about it. Like, warm me up. Or whatever."

 _"Oh."_ That single word alone is charged with enough suppressed amusement that Felix expects Alex to start laughing at him any minute. Instead, he clears his throat and says _, "Of course, love. It would be my pleasure. Would you like to do something that feels even better this time?"_

Felix's palm slides up his cock, half hard even without the extra attention. His hips twitch as a calloused finger scrapes over the head, shooting a spark of pleasure straight to his core. He lazily strokes that spot again, eyes drooping as he sinks his head into his pillow.

"And how are you going to do that?" Felix mumbles, briefly glancing at his nightstand. He preemptively grabs the bottle of lubricant. To his chagrin he realizes he should lay down a towel, or it's going to make a mess all over his sheets. "Last time, it was basically all me."

 _"Mm, I would have helped more, but I recall a certain someone revoked my right to touch,"_ is Alex's lofty reply. _"It's a shame. You'd have looked wonderful riding my fingers, too."_

"So we'll do it this time," Felix says, a little too eagerly. "I mean, if you think that's actually going to work."

 _"And here I was expecting more resistance,"_ he muses _."You surprise me, Noah."_

"Yeah well, it was my idea to call… I wouldn't if I didn't want to."

_"Yes, yes. You're right."_

*

Felix starts by covering his hand in a generous amount of lubricant, warming it between his fingers. It's been a while since he's done this. He usually prefers to take the easiest and most efficient route when he needs to get himself off. 

_"Nice and easy at first…"_

"Stop babying me," Felix grumbles. The pad of his middle finger glossing over his hole, and a gentle application of pressure to his rim is familiar enough. "I know what I'm doing."

_"Of course, darling but you'll have to forgive me for assuming my hands may be much bigger than yours."_

It slides past the rim easily, into warm and soft heat that's quick to accommodate the intrusion. He spreads his legs wider and presses in a second finger, meeting resistance at first.

"Assume makes an ass out of you and me…" he replies, automatically and without much thought to what he's saying. "Why, how big are your hands?"

Felix wiggles his fingers. It's more of a stretch, a temporary slight burn once he works them in completely. Weird after so long without, but not unpleasant.

_"I've been told they're quite large. I am rather tall, so it seems to follow that everything else is as well - ah, but this isn't really necessary or relevant for you to know. Don't mind me."_

"It is if I'm supposed to be imagining your fingers inside my ass," he argues. _Among other things._

Alex sighs but says nothing, and Felix continues to probe his fingers around, stretching out his hole in a methodical manner as his cock lies flat against his stomach, hard and throbbing. He gives it a firm stroke as he thrusts in a third finger, and _now_ he's starting to feel the fullness he's been craving. 

He curls his fingers forward, cursing when he presses up only lightly against his prostate. It's not enough, _it's not enough._

_"Are you all right?"_

"Yeah," he says, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of his hole, grinding in deep with his fingertips as he moves his hand faster. He wishes he had a toy - wishes he had something thicker than just his fingers and—

"Ah, _fuck_."

Ah, that was… that was good. 

He shudders and does it again, groaning.

 _"Right there, hmm? Ah, you're opening up so beautifully for me,"_ Alex says in awe. 

"I wish my fingers were longer," Felix admits. "It's ah… " he bends his knees more. "Have you ever tried doing this? I used to...hah… do this with my ex but… it seems a lot more difficult now."

He's babbling without purpose, so he doesn't expect Alex to answer him seriously, if at all. 

Alex doesn't address it, but does ask, " _Are you lying down, right now?"_

"Yeah, why?"

_"Sit up, it'll make things easier for you."_

"Don't tell me what to do." Felix sits up on his knees anyway. The new position _does_ make it easier to slide up and down his fingers if he so chooses, but to his annoyance, he's still too tight and can't move his hand the way he wants to.

How _did_ he and Annie do this before? Is his ass getting tighter in his old age?

"This is a lot of work for me to do on my own," he says, prodding around to find that sweet spot again. "And people do this all the time with you? Unbelievable. They must really be desperate to - to _-_ oh, _fuck. Sothis's hairy fucking c—"_ he comes down on his fingers at the perfect angle and his words dissolve into a series of unintelligible curses that have Alex laughing in delight.

_"Mm, sweetheart, sweetheart… eating our words already, are we?"_

"Shut up - Goddess, _shut up -_ stop being so smug about it, it's not even—" he swears loudly and moans, his hole undulating around his fingers. 

Okay so it is easier this way, and he's just being contrary for the sake of being contrary, but—

"Hah… a-ah…"

No one said he had to admit it. 

It takes him a few minutes to fully adjust to the new position, setting a steady pace for himself that's comfortable, but not quite what he needs the more he gets used to it.

 _"What do you think, Noah? Should I go faster?"_ Alex asks, casually like he's asking about the weather and not coaxing Felix through fucking himself open for an imaginary dick _. "Can you handle it?"_

Felix glares at the phone and scoffs. "What kind of question is that? I've got three fingers shoved up my ass and my dick in my hand and you're asking if I can—"

 _"_ ** _Yes or no."_**

Felix fucks himself hard on his hand and gasps - both from startled pleasure, and the brusque authority with which Alex addresses him. His cock drips onto his stomach as it jerks in his other hand.

_What the hell was that?_

_"...please, beautiful,"_ Alex is quick to soothe, dialing his voice back down. _"I know you can. You're already doing so well. I just want to make sure you're okay."_

"Of course I'm okay, I—" he presses against his sweet spot again with a groan, bucking into it, hips thrusting down onto his hand. "This is _nothing_."

_"Ah, good. I'm going to go faster then. Are you ready?"_

"Stop asking me that and just do it."

He thinks he hears Alex sigh in exasperation, but his voice softens when he says, _"Steady then. I've got you."_

Felix lifts his hips up and fucks down, working himself faster and harder each time he drops. His words come out in broken fragments as pleasure burns in his core.

"F...fuck, fuck…"

 _"Yes, that's it,"_ Alex whispers _. "Like that. Keep going just like that. You look even better like this than I imagined."_

Felix rolls his head back and bites down on his lip, grinding down hard on his fingers, his vision going unfocused. His other hand pumps weakly on his dick, chasing dual sensations of pleasure, approaching his climax.

But.

He wants more. So much more.

 _Four fingers,_ he thinks deliriously.

Can he do four?

He removes his fingers with a whimper and grabs more lube, hands trembling as he squeezes the bottle too hard and the excess drips over his lap and down his cock. 

To his dismay, the fourth doesn't fit when he tries and he curses for an entirely different reason.

_"Noah?"_

Nothing seems to work as he makes attempt after attempt, euphoria transforming into nothing more than growls of fury and frustration.

_"Is everything okay?"_

His distress is palpable even over the phone, and it's not long before Alex starts calling out to him more insistently.

 _"Noah,"_ Alex says from far away. _"Noah, talk to me - whatever you're doing right now, please don't push yourself. That's not what - you don't have to—"_

 _"Shut up!"_ Felix snarls, lip curling as he tries again, only to fail _again._ Heat prickles at the corners of his eyes. He can do this. He knows he can _._ "I can do it," he says. "I can do it…"

He prods again with more force and gasps when he feels a sharp pain in his wrist.

He can't.

His body continues to reject his next few attempts, too tightly wound to offer any more give, and he has no choice but to stop, eyes and throat burning with the threat of _real_ tears.

"...I can't," he whispers. Quiet, subdued. Alex makes a sympathetic sound in reply.

 _"Can't do what, love?"_ he ventures to ask. Felix feels touched by his concern, no matter how weird it is if he thinks about it too hard _._

He feels so stupid. "I thought I could - I was trying to - " Never mind, he can't say it.

 _"Oh, darling, we can go slower,"_ he murmurs, misinterpreting him, _"or we can stop if it's too much for you."_

"No. Don't be ridiculous," he snaps. "Why would I stop now?"

_"Because I don't want you to hurt yourself. This is supposed to be about making you feel good."_

"I'm _fine._ I feel _great,"_ he grits out. "Keep going."

 _"Alright… if you're sure."_ Alex doesn't sound convinced, but presses on regardless. _"Do what you can then, and listen to the sound of my voice."_

Felix nods into the empty space of his room. Disappointment weighs heavy in his chest, his arousal waning. "Fine…" He _is_ paying for this after all. He may as well.

 _"I'm going to wrap my hand around you now. Feel the weight of you in my palm,"_ he starts.

Felix takes up his cock again as he does. He feels it stirring back to life as Alex continues, his voice spreading over him like a balm to soothe his bruised ego.

_"Do you know you fit perfectly while I hold you like this? Just the right size."_

Felix snorts and thumbs the slit of his dick, "What, you're not going to tell me how big I am? Isn't that a thing you guys are supposed to... _ah_...do?"

 _"Ah yes, of course,"_ he says, and Felix can hear him smirking. His voice goes higher, oozing sarcasm, _"Goddess, Noah you're just so big I can hardly hold all of you in my hand! I might need to use both of them! Or maybe I should use my feet instead. You're absolutely massive and I can't possibly—"_

"Oh for fuck's sake — nevermind, _nevermind!_ I changed my mind, that's the fucking worst," Felix groans. "You're such an asshole…"

Alex erupts into peals of laughter. _"What? I have to have some fun! And you don't seem to mind that much…_ "

"Debatable…" at the very least it's helping him forget about his previous predicament. "Let's - can we - can we just get back to—"

_"Me touching you?"_

"Yeah, that. That would be great." 

He must be doing it on purpose. Toying with Felix, for his own amusement and stalling for time to squeeze out as much money from Felix as he can.

But when his voice goes high like that... it makes Felix wonder what else Alex does with his other customers. How he treats them - or is treated in return. 

He debates asking about it later.

For now he…listens, and imagines.

_"I'm wrapping my hand around you, as my fingers find your slick hole again. You've loosened up so nicely for me that they slide all the way in, don't they? So warm… tight…"_

Felix takes his cue and slides his fingers between his cheeks, shoving them back inside. 

It's not long before he's back to where he was before, orgasm slowly building, thighs trembling with exertion the faster he goes. He chokes out a sob when he finds his rhythm, fucking onto his fingers as Alex lets loose an appreciative moan of his own.

 _"Ah the sounds you make,"_ he coos. _"You don't know what they do to me. I can't help myself. I want to ravage you thoroughly, leave my marks all over your body for everyone to see."_

Felix scoffs, even as his eyes close and he shudders. 

"You're one of those guys, huh," he says, cock pulsing with heat at the thought of the bruises someone like Alex could leave on Felix if he let himself go. Dark, hungry, and possessive ugly marks that would be tender for days whenever he pressed them. Admired them. "The ones that like to...ah… show off."

_"Perhaps."_

He feels dizzy, toes curling against his bed sheets as he stills his hips to fist his cock instead.

 _"I'd sit you in my lap as we did this together. You would face me as you sink onto my fingers while I stroke you faster. And I would kiss your neck, your throat, pull your lips between my teeth and bite them,"_ he whispers _. "Swallow your gasps and your cries as you chase your release, and spend yourself from my touch."_

Felix can picture it, a large hand cradling his ass, three or four fingers deep and the other pulling on his dick. Lips finding all the sensitive areas of his neck Annie used to bite to rile him up, like the spot just below his ears that makes him shiver and shake and make him harder than - well, he can't think of _what_ at the moment. Something metaphorical certainly.

But it's not her tiny body in his arms, it's someone taller, broader, stronger...

"Yeah," Felix says, squeezing together his thighs as his balls begin to tighten.

 _"And when you finish,"_ Alex continues, low, rich, with the slightest touch of roughness _, "oh… I'd fill you again, but this time I would bend you over your bed or a chair and I would take you properly, over and over until your knees go weak and collapse in sheer pleasure."_

"Oh fuck." He gasps, hole clenching around his fingers. Being manhandled, fucked stupid after he's come — "Yes, _yes that's it."_

_"Hmm? Are you close, darling?"_

_"Y-yeah..."_

_"Then let's go. Come for me, sweetheart._ **_Let me hear you._** _"_

"Shit!"

If asked about it later, Felix will deny it happened, but it's the command that does it for him. 

His release hits him and he comes with a gasping moan.

This time he lets Alex hear everything.

*

"You know, you can be rougher with me," Felix says a few minutes later, once he cools off and finishes lazing about his bed and hobbles off to the bathroom to clean up.

He stands on shaky legs, wiping off his stomach and swiping the washcloth between his cheeks to wipe away any excess lube. "And not do that whole—" he gestures into the empty air with the cloth before rinsing it and tossing it into his laundry hamper in the corner of the room "—stuck up prince thing."

_"You think I sound stuck up?"_

Felix runs his hands under the tap and shrugs, cleaning them off. "Uptight might be a better word. Or pent up? Like sometimes you act like you're on the edge of something and then you don't follow through with it." 

He dries his hands and wanders back to his bed, phone in hand, assessing the sheets with a sigh. These need to be washed, too and Felix is sleepy. He doesn't have the energy to change them right now. 

"Like you're holding back," he elaborates, "on purpose."

 _"Well,"_ Alex says - and Felix gets the impression he's trying to choose his words carefully - _"that's what this extension is more or less about. If that's not what you signed up for then, I'm sorry? I can always direct you to someone who might suit your needs better than I can."_

"No, that's not - that's not what I meant." Felix flops onto the clean half of his bed, rolling on his side, cradling his phone. "I don't… I don't dislike it. I wouldn't come - come calling if I didn't. I don't do things I don't like if I can avoid it."

 _"No, I suppose not."_ Felix hears a creak in the background. He wonders where Alex is when he takes these calls. A call center? At home maybe? It sounds like a chair. 

"But you said before you're anyone or anything I want you to be," he insists. 

_"That's correct,"_ Alex agrees _. "But that's also within reason."_

_Oh, so I'm being unreasonable? It's unreasonable to want…_

_Want…_

Felix _knows_ what he wants but Alex can't take a hint, apparently, and like hell Felix is going to _tell_ him. He can figure it out on his own.

"I see."

Okay so maybe he's being… a bit unfair.

Prince persona aside, Alex (whatever his real name) is just a regular guy. He's just doing his job. 

There's an awkward pause after. Felix's eyes start to drift shut as he gets comfortable under his sheets.

When Alex speaks next, he sounds genuinely apologetic, but very tired. _"I'm sorry, Noah, but I have to let you go for now."_

"Oh, okay." He tries to keep the disappointment out of his tone. He'd have liked to sit and listen to Alex speak for a little while longer.

_"Thank you for calling. Enjoy the rest of your night."_

"Yeah, um, you as well. And, thanks...for, you know."

Alex chuckles, warm and soft in Felix's ears _._ Something he thinks, in his post-orgasm haze, he could fall asleep to. 

_"You're welcome, love. Let's talk again soon."_


	6. no thanks i think i'll stay a hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which felix socializes a lot and nothing bad happens at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ended up way longer than i thought oops  
> there's quite a bit of claude/felix interaction in this chapter and some vague drug use  
> also drinking  
> as a forewarning

"Yo, we're here," Sylvain declares when they make it to Claude's place, parking his car outside what can only be described as a fucking _mansion_. "Everybody out."

Felix's jaw drops open when he sees it, like a toddler getting ready to shovel a handful of dirt into its mouth.

Claude's house is _huge_ , and it's even bigger on the inside. Felix is a thousand percent sure the foyer alone is the size of his whole damn apartment.

Claude greets them as they're taking off their shoes, high-fiving Sylvain before clasping their hands together.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it!" He flashes a smile at Felix before addressing the rest of the group, inviting them all in.

Linhardt, Sylvain's date, mirrors Ingrid's unimpressed look when Sylvain and Claude continue to jostle each other all the way down the hall and further into the house. 

Why he agreed to come with them at all is anyone's guess. Felix asked him earlier on the drive over, and he'd only turned to him and deadpanned: "He helps me sleep, so I owe him one." 

Whatever the fuck that means. 

There's probably a euphemism for sex in there somewhere, but Felix has no interest in searching for it. The less he knows, the better.

-

As expected, the party is full of people Felix doesn't know, but he does recognize a few familiar faces. 

Ingrid disappears first after about ten minutes, presumably to go hunt for snacks. Sylvain and Linhardt follow soon after - the former wagging his eyebrows at Felix before they go and telling him to 'be good' and 'stay out of trouble' - which leaves him alone with Claude.

"Your house is huge," Felix comments, for lack of anything else to say. "It's nice."

"Oh, thanks. It's not mine, though. I'm just house-sitting for my grandfather for a few weeks while he's on vacation," Claude explains. "Trust me, my place is a shoebox by comparison. Can I get you a drink?"

"Goddess, yes.I _hate_ parties."

-

Someone's watching them.

He doesn't notice at first, initially preoccupied by Claude's hand on his lower back, and how it radiates heat through his shirt.

But Felix feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he follows Claude into the living room area, and to a table full of mixers and bottles. 

At first he thinks he's imagining things, but the feeling persists even as Claude moves away from Felix and starts picking through the bottles to craft him a drink.

And sure enough, when Felix scans the room, there's a man leaning against the fireplace mantle who is blatantly glaring at him over his glass of wine.

His aristocratic features, sleek hair and lean build _should_ make him handsome but his expression is twisted into something ugly that ruins his appearance altogether. He looks to be trying to drill holes into Felix's skull with his eyes.

"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Felix asks, folding his arms and tilting his chin in the man's direction. Claude hands him a cup filled with _something_ and follows his gaze.

"Hm? Oh, him?" he says. "Don't mind Lorenz. He gets upset when someone else looks better in black than he does, that's all."

"What?"

"I'm talking about you." He gestures to Felix's clothes.

"Oh. Uh…thanks?" Felix looks down at his black button up and matching shorts, feeling underdressed compared to Lorenz' loose collared shirt and jeans. He suspects Claude might just be humouring him because he's not wearing anything special.

"What is this, by the way?" He shakes the red plastic cup, ice clunking against the sides of it, and smells it, ignoring Lorenz for now.

Claude winks at him and takes a sip from his own cup. "Just a little something to take the edge off. House recipe. It's good, I promise."

Felix tries it. Citrus, whiskey, and a note of something else lingers on his tongue. Claude watches for his approval, smiling wide when he takes another sip.

"Good, right?"

"It's palatable," Felix says. 

Claude's smile widens further. 

Felix leans back and knocks the entire thing in one go. It burns all the way down, and Felix shudders, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Another one," he says, presenting his empty cup to Claude's shocked face.

Meanwhile, Lorenz looks like he's about half a hair away from snapping the neck of his glass.

-

Drinking instantly makes the party more tolerable, and makes Felix a lot less likely to protest when he accompanies Claude as he chats up and checks in on his guests like any good host would.

Felix's head is already fuzzy from his first and second drink, while he's busy nursing a third. Whatever Claude mixed him is good, but it's _strong._

Claude's arm is around his waist as he casually carries on conversation with some guy wearing wire-rimmed, round glasses. He doesn't seem to mind that Felix doesn't talk too much in large gatherings like this.

Claude and the bowlcut are discussing something to do with marketing and advertising, while Felix, who has little interest in eavesdropping on them, occupies himself with Claude instead.

Claude's earrings dangle enticingly, especially when the light above them catches and glints off the gold hoops. Felix reaches his hand up and he gently flicks the earrings.

Claude glances at him, crookedly smiling in amusement. "Hey, kitty cat. What's up?"

"Don't call me that," Felix mumbles, flicking them again. "I just noticed your ears are pierced."

"Yeah, just the one, actually."

"Ear then… I've never gotten any piercings," he says. Claude's thumb rubs his hip just under his shirt. "Do you think I'd look weird with one?"

"Depends where you'd get it. I think a nose or ear piercing would look good on you."

Felix absently touches the side of his nose, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have one. 

"Why," Claude asks, "are you thinking of getting some?"

Felix shakes his head, which turns out to be a bad idea because it only serves to make his world spin and make him stumble against Claude. Claude steadies him with a gentle laugh.

"Not a good idea when you have people kicking at your head," Felix tells him.

"Oh yeah, you're the guy who boxes with Leonie, right?" It's not Claude who asks, but the dude in the glasses.

Felix looks over at him. "Yeah that's me." 

Glasses smiles and extends his hand.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Ignatz by the way," he says.

"Hi," Felix says, staring at his hand for a moment before returning to bat at Claude's earrings instead of shaking it.

Ignatz' smile falters. 

Claude is quick to reassure him, "Don't worry, it's not you, Natz. He's like this with everyone."

-

Claude is a very social host, and is eager to introduce Felix to as many of his friends as he can it seems. First was Ignatz, now it's Lysithea.

And Lysithea is, if Felix had to use one word to describe her, _intimidating._

Not because of her attitude or stature or anything, but by the simple fact that she is younger than either Claude or Felix and has so much more of her shit together than Felix can ever dream of.

Also, she can apparently scarf down an entire container of cupcakes without so much as a flinch, which is both disgusting as well as terrifying.

"You're what, in your last year of med school now?" Claude is saying.

"Starting next month, yes," she says, licking purple frosting off her fingers. "But I don't see why you're bringing this up."

"I'm proud of you, that's why. Why wouldn't I show you off?"

"Because all you're doing is teasing me!"

"Maybe, but I think it's pretty damn exciting, don't you? You're going to be a cardiologist before you're thirty. That's incredible."

"That's enough!" she says, flustered by the attention, but pleased, if her smile is any indicator.

She offers Felix a cupcake, which he declines, and says, "Please ignore him, he's always like this. So, what about you? What is it you do?"

And that question alone is all kinds of awkward because Felix cannot possibly hope to compare to _that_ -

"Ah," Claude interjects. "Felix is shy about talking about himself. Even I can't get him to open up that much."

 _Not_ _shy_ , his brain argues.

But it's easier just to go along with it.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Sorry."

Lysithea looks disappointed, but when Claude switches topics, she quickly gets over it. 

Felix tries to pay attention. He does.

But in the moment where he opens his mouth to make his own contribution to the conversation, he happens to catch a glimpse of red hair from the corner of his eye.

He thinks it's Leonie at first, or maybe Sylvain, but the person is too short, hair too long and—

Oh fuck.

_Fuck, that looks like - !_

"—and I figure now is as good a time any to -"

"I have to piss," Felix interrupts, a lot more calm than he feels. "I'll be right back."

And then rushes off.

He swears, he fucking swears someone calls out his name as he goes, but like hell is he about to stick around to find out.

_Fuck. Was that her? Is that her?_

He doesn't know, he doesn't know, he doesn't -

He doesn't know where the hell anything is in this house, that's for sure.

 _Ah, thank fuck, a bathroom_ , he thinks, spotting it. Some idiot left the light on.

He sprints towards it and locks himself inside without a second thought.

For as opulent as the rest of the house is, the bathroom is surprisingly stark and austere in its design. There's so much...white, save for the sink cabinet and the rug in front of it. It has a very modern feel to it, and even smells like it was recently renovated. Or perhaps it's from disuse.

There's also a giant ass mirror on the far wall, letting him see how flush his face is from the alcohol, so that's fun. And his hair is sticking up in weird directions, too. Also fun.

 _What now?_ he thinks, letting his hair down to comb through it with his hands as he paces the room.

He can't go out there yet. Not if that's… not if it's her.

He's definitely overreacting, but he can use this to get away from people, too. Recharge.

He'll hang out here for a while then. He has his phone and the internet, which should be plenty to keep him occupied.

 _Or,_ his mind whispers _, how about making a phone call?_

_-_

He is so fucking predictable.

Felix feels a pulse of heat travel to his groin when Alex finally answers the phone after several rings, but this is neither the time nor the place for it, so he ignores it and wills his dick to stand down.

 _"Two nights in a row?"_ Alex remarks, surprised. _"This is new. Did you miss me, sweetheart?"_

Felix blushes.

"None of your business," he mutters, not knowing what else to say without implicating himself.

Except it totally backfires anyway, and he can tell Alex isn't fooled, based on the way he laughs. Felix's grip tightens on his phone and he scowls.

"Don't laugh at me, asshole."

 _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"_ he breathes. _"Apologies for my rudeness. It won't happen again."_ It will. _"I'm afraid I can't help myself. Something about you makes me want to - I always want to tease you."_

This, Felix has noticed, is where Alex breaks character the most. Or, at least, where Felix suspects he's doing it. 

Felix likes The Prince. He does. But he's starting to prefer when Alex's princely façade cracks and Felix is speaking to an actual person, rather than a fantasy. It's fine in the moment, but once the sex is over, he would rather…

"Yeah, I noticed. I don't have to put up with this, you know. I could hang up."

 _"You could,"_ Alex agrees, and then says with overwhelming confidence, _"but you won't."_

_Ughh, what a dick._

"And how would you know?"

 _"Intuition, I suppose,"_ he says. And then, it's straight to business as usual: _"So, what can I do for you, darling, now that I have you here?"_

"Nothing," Felix says. "I just... want to talk. No sex or anything."

_"Oh. Really?"_

"What, is that a problem?"

_"No, it's...fine, but are you sure you wouldn't rather call a different number to do that? One you don't need to pay for?"_

"No. I want to talk to you. I don't care if you're charging my credit card, I just…" _wanted to hear your voice._ "Look, you don't have to feel guilty I'm not getting my money's worth. I'm not in the mood for it anyway."

 _"Alright..."_ Alex says. _"What would you like to talk about then?"_

"I don't really know. Anything. Nothing."

 _"Well, I can hardly sit and talk with you about nothing…"_ Alex hums to himself, thinking. _"Are you up to anything tonight? You're calling earlier than you usually do."_

Than he usually does? Oh, fuck, he's turning into a regular.

"I - yes. I'm actually at a party."

 _"You're at a party?"_ Alex parrots.

"Yeah."

_"And you're… calling me. Shouldn't you be with your friends? Surely I'm a lot less exciting to talk to than they are."_

"Yeah, I should be, but I'm...hiding out in the bathroom."

_"What, why?"_

"It's stupid. You're gonna think it's stupid if I tell you."

_"Try me. Are you hiding from your friends because you don't want to be there?"_

Felix snorts. "No, that's not it. I would've stayed home if that was the case," he says. "It's because I saw… or, I _think_ I saw my ex-girlfriend here. I ran before I could tell for sure."

_"So you're hiding from her then. Why?"_

"I… it's a long story. We broke up a while ago, and it was...messy." Felix leans back against the bathroom wall where he's seated, his bare toes sliding across the ornate area rug in front of the sink. "I said a lot of shitty things to her I never apologized for."

 _"Ah…"_ Alex says, quietly. _"I see. Is she still upset with you?"_

"See that's the thing. I don't know? I'd be upset with me if I was her though," he mumbles. "And if it _is_ her, it's even more awkward because the party's at this house - which is massive by the way - and the guy who owns it - wait, no it's not his, it's his _grandfather's_ house—"

_"Who?"_

"This guy," Felix clarifies, "I went on a date with last _week_. It's his grandfather's house. That I'm at _."_

_"Oh, I see."_

"No, no you _don't_ see, because I haven't explained it yet."

_"It's awkward that your ex is at a party that is being hosted by the man you went on a date with."_

"...okay, okay maybe you do. Yes, that's it." How Alex managed to unscramble Felix's mess of thoughts, Felix will never know.

_"But you're adults, you can all be mature about it can't you?"_

"Well yeah, but I'd rather avoid it altogether if I can." 

_"Ah. Understandable."_

Felix laughs without humour. "Is it? It's been three years. Isn't that pathetic?"

_"I don't think so. Not if you haven't reached a resolution or gotten closure. Encountering someone you parted on bad terms with will always hold some degree of awkwardness. I think, anyway."_

"Are you speaking from experience, or are you talking out of your ass?" 

_"Ah, no. Not quite…"_ he says _. "My friends' experience, not mine. I've been very lucky with my breakups. Each time we parted on good terms, and I still keep in touch with them both."_

"Both?" Felix echoes, quickly processing the information. "Wait, have you only ever dated two people?"

_"Is there something wrong with that?"_

"Not really, but I'm surprised? I figured you would be getting all kinds of ass since you're apparently some sort of Sex God—"

_"Sex God? What -"_

"—and that people would be coming out in droves to take a ride on that giant dick of yours."

_"Now wait just a minute - that's not - "_

"Am I wrong?"

_"Yes!"_

"But you do this whole hotline thing."

_"So? I've only ever had serious relationships. This is… I do this for personal reasons."_

"Personal reasons. I guess it would make sense that you get off on this. It just seems like it's a lot of work, and not much payoff."

 _"You have no idea,"_ Alex says. And if there is any significance to that, it goes right over Felix's head.

"So why do it at all then?"

_"As I said before, personal reasons. I'm sorry, Noah. I'm not comfortable talking about them, and I'd like to keep them to myself."_

"Fine. We'll talk about something else then."

_"Yes, I agree. Why don't you tell me about this date of yours?"_

"Do I have to?"

_"Of course not, but you did mention it, so I thought I would ask."_

"Fine, but it's not that exciting."

*

Felix tells him about meeting Claude, about the restaurant, the arcade and the awful movies and even the teenagers.

"Think of the most vanilla date you can imagine," Felix says. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I feel like I didn't learn that much about him. Except that he's the kind of person who only shows you what he wants you to see."

 _"Aren't we all like that in a way, though?"_ Alex muses. _"We have a face - or faces even - that we like to show everyone else, and one we like to keep to ourselves."_

"Not me," Felix states with conviction. "What you see is what you get."

Alex chuckles. _"And it's certainly something to behold if that's true."_

"It is. My brother taught me not to be afraid to speak my mind. If people don't like that, then that's on them."

_"That can get you into a lot of trouble if you're not careful. Did he teach you that, too?"_

Felix grunts adjusting his position so he's not crushing his tailbone where he sits. "He might've. I don't remember."

_"I'm sure if you asked, he'd tell you."_

"He can't. He's dead."

The line goes quiet.

Felix hadn't meant to say it.

_"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't -"_

"Don't." Felix closes his eyes and sucks in a breath between his teeth. "Save your sympathy. It's fine."

_"Yes, but -"_

"Stop. It's not like you could've known," he says. He ploughs on, avoiding the topic. "Anyways, my _date_ is decent guy, but -"

 _"But…?"_ Alex picks up on the change quickly, thankfully. _"Did you not enjoy yourself?"_

"It's not that. I wish he was… taller, that's all."

That startles a laugh out of Alex. _"Really? Why?"_

Felix shrugs, embarrassment flushing his cheeks as he grumbles, "I don't know. I like tall guys?"

_"Ah, so that's your type?"_

"Ugh, what is with people's obsession with types? You sound like Sylvain. I don't have a type!"

_"It's nothing to be ashamed of if you do."_

"I don't! Why, do _you?"_

_"I've never given it much thought, to be honest."_

"That sounds like a cop out. You can't bother me about it and then turn around and tell me you don't know."

 _"All right.. Then I suppose if I had to pick anything it would be… strength of character,"_ he says _. "People who have the ability to persevere and to thrive despite whatever awful circumstances life throws their way. It's something I've always admired in others and tried to emulate for myself."_

It's a lot more insightful than Felix was expecting, and he's taken aback by his earnestness.

"That… that's a good answer. I don't know why, but I was expecting you to say something like you like brunettes, and not something like _that_."

_"Oh, I don't have a preference for hair colour, or many preferences about appearances to begin with."_

"How admirable of you. My friends tease me about mine," Felix says with a sniff, "saying I have a thing for redheads."

_"And, do you?"_

"No, I like blonds, too! But there's more to it than that. Talent... intelligence…"

 _"Height?"_ he teases.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm hanging up."

*

Time passes, and conversation varies from the mundane and downright ridiculous, to more serious topics without rhyme or reason. There's something cathartic about spilling one's guts to a stranger, Felix feels, as he tries to explain to Alex the complicated relationship he has with his life and his job and - to a lesser extent - his father.

"I used to be going somewhere in life, I thought," Felix confesses, picking off random cat hairs from his shorts. "I had things planned out for myself and my life, and now it's like I have nothing but my mediocre job and a mediocre life. Every day feels like I'm trying to walk through quicksand, and all I'm doing is sinking further and further."

_"Have you spoken to anyone about this?"_

"Like who? My friends? _My father?"_ he scoffs. "Please."

_"Someone who can help you. Professionally."_

"I don't need a fucking shrink," he spits. "I know what I need to do. I think I just… I'm not ready yet. To do it."

_"Hmm… well, whatever that happens to be, know that you're not alone, okay?"_

"Right. Thanks, doctor. I'll remember that."

_"Noah, please. I'm being serious. It sounds like you're trying to carry a very large burden all on your own. Heavy weights like these are easier to bear when you have someone else to give you a hand."_

"Hah. It almost sounds like you're worried about me."

_"Would it really be such a bad thing if I was?"_

"I don't get why you would be," he answers honestly. "Aren't I just a way to make you money?"

*

Despite a few hiccoughs here and there (and several more empty threats to hang up on Felix's part), Alex is easy to talk to. His natural cadence is still warm, but he's much more blunt than The Prince is, unafraid to bite back when Felix gives him attitude. He likes that a lot.

It's a nice give and take. And while they avoid delving _too_ deep into personal details, Felix feels like for the first time he's able to share parts of himself he hasn't with anyone else in a while.

 _What you see is what you get, huh?_ comes the voice of Sylvain. 

He ignores it.

At least an hour passes before they're finally interrupted.

A commotion outside the door startles Felix and he jumps, swearing into the phone. There's the rattling of the lock, a curse, followed soon after by furious pounding.

"Whoever is in here - " comes a woman's voice, "- are you finished? We need to use the bathroom!"

Another voice, "Hey, Ingy, calm down - I'm fine, it's not that bad."

"Sylvain, I swear to Sothis—"

"I gotta go," Felix hastily says, "before my friends break the door down."

_"They found you, hm?"_

"Not on purpose."

_"All right. Have a good night then. It was nice talking to you like this...try to remember what I said before, okay?"_

"I'll think about it."

_"Good. Enjoy the rest of the party."_

"Thanks," Felix says. "Bye."

There's more banging on the door, and cursing when Felix hangs up and drags himself to his feet.

He unlocks the door, opening it just as Ingrid lifts her fist to knock again, almost hitting him in the head. The look of surprise on her face when she sees him is comical.

_"Felix?"_

"Heeeey, buddy. So this is where you've been hiding. Claude's been looking all over for you." 

Sylvain's voice is nasally, and a cursory glance reveals that his dumb ass is sporting the start of a black eye and a bloody nose he definitely didn't have before they got here. He looks like shit. 

"What the hell happened to you?" Felix asks, like it's not obvious.

Sylvain's white shirt is stained red, his nose is pinched between his thumb and forefinger, face angled to the sky as he grins at Felix and shrugs.

Felix makes space for them as Sylvain is dragged inside the bathroom by Ingrid who forces him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"What do you think?" she snaps, as she begins rifling through drawers and cabinets under the sink. "He got into a fight," she says. "Saints, where is the - why are there so many drawers?"

Felix meanwhile, turns his attention to Sylvain and rests his hand in Sylvain's hair with a frown. Sylvain gives him a questioning look.

"Hey," he mutters, pushing on his head, "tilt your head down. You're supposed to let the blood drain out."

"I know that! I was trying not to drip all over the floor on my way here," Sylvain says. He does as he's told, however, and pulls up the hem of his shirt to stuff under his nose. "Trust me. This isn't my first rodeo. Ingrid, I'm _fine._ I just need to clean up a bit and change my shirt." Then to Felix: "She worries too much."

Felix glares back at him and scoffs. "I wonder why. What happened."

"What's it look like? I got into a fight."

"Yeah, I know that, dumbass. With who? And why?"

"I don't know his name! It was some asshole that was giving Lin a hard time. He kept talking shit even after I asked him to stop. He pushed me, so I pushed him back, and he took a swing at me. And here we are."

"Here we are," Felix agrees. "Where is Linhardt, anyway?"

Ingrid sighs, returning to them with alcohol swabs, a damp cloth, and some band-aids. "On the couch, recovering. Apparently the sight of blood makes him faint."

"You just left him there by himself?" Sylvain balks. "What if that creep comes back?"

"Of course I didn't!" she says. "Annette is taking care of him. He's fine."

Felix's blood runs cold. 

"Annie's here?" he whispers.

Sylvain nods, hissing when Ingrid starts wiping the blood from his face. He sputters when the cloth gets in his mouth as he says, "Yeah. We were trying to warn you. Didn't you see my texts?"

"No…"

"Seriously? I must've sent you like five. What have you been doing this whole time?"

He swipes to unlock his phone and looks at his notifications. Sure enough, there's several texts from both Ingrid and Sylvain, and a few from Claude - asking if he's okay.

"None of your business," Felix says, putting his phone away. His heart thrums in his ears as panic quietly sets in. Fuck it _is_ her. Why is Annie here? "You're obviously fine so I'm leaving."

"Leaving? What -"

"Not _leaving_ leaving. Where's Claude?"

"Outside I think, by the pool, I think he was - ow! Ingrid! Ow ow ow, that burns!"

"It's going to get infected if I don't clean it. Stop being such a baby," she says, dabbing around his nose with the alcohol swabs next. "But yes, Claude's out back by the pool. He was asking us about you earlier because he said you took off and he hadn't seen or heard from you in a while."

Shit. Now he feels like an asshole for not checking his phone earlier.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Why do you make me suffer like this…" Sylvain whines. "What did I ever do to you…"

"It's called tough love," Ingrid says. "Now hold still."

Their voices taper off as Felix exits the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Even with his worst fears confirmed and having hidden himself in the bathroom for over an hour (a lesson in futility, but at least he got to talk to Alex), Felix tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter that Annie _is_ here. He's not obligated to talk to her, and honestly, he can't imagine why she would _want_ to talk to him in the first place.

Besides, she's occupied with taking care of Sylvain's date. There's no reason for him to worry. This house is big enough that they can avoid crossing paths easily enough.

-

Felix needs to stop jinxing himself.

After several minutes of wandering aimlessly and getting lost twice, (and also encountering not one, but two couples making out in various rooms of the house) Felix finds the back patio door in the kitchen.

The kitchen itself is just as absurdly big as every other room in the house, and is devoid of people, short of some random guy snoring on the floor, leaning against the fridge with his hand still stuffed in a bag of chips. 

The only reason why Felix knows he's there is because he almost eats shit when he trips over him on his way to the door. He manages to right himself before slamming his face into the counter, thank the Goddess.

The guy snorts in his sleep and rolls over, sending the chips spilling across the floor. What a waste.

Felix leaves him alone and makes his way to the door. He grips the handle, ready to slide the glass open when—

"Felix?"

His lungs seize.

"...Felix," the voice repeats, more timidly this time. "Is that you?"

Felix peels his fingers off the handle and slowly turns around, trying to hide his distress when he comes face to face with its owner.

Annette Dominic smiles at him, and his stomach flips uneasily.

"Hi Annie," he says quietly. He can't breathe. He presses his back to the glass of the door, trying to appear casual even as his throat threatens to close on him. 

He feels like he's been transported back in time. 

She looks much the same now as she did then: vibrant and petite and as pretty as she ever was, when she'd collected her belongings and walked out of Felix's apartment for the last time.

The only difference is that her hair is longer, winding in loose red curls over her shoulders. And she looks...happy, her eyes clear and bright and free of tears.

His heart begins to ache, even as his face flushes with shame. 

Of course it could never be that easy. Nothing in Felix's life is.

"Hey! It's been a while since I've seen you," she says. 

"...At least three years," Felix replies, hesitantly.

"How have you been?"

"I'm—" _tired, lonely, slowly losing my mind_ "—fine. I guess. You?"

"Busy," she says. "Really busy with work, actually. I've been preparing for the start of school, and it's been challenging. But I'm so excited to meet my students next month."

Oh.

"You're teaching now?"

Saints, she's grown up so much.

"Yeah! This is my first year," she continues. "I'm really nervous, because I'm teaching teenagers. I'm worried they're not going to take me seriously."

It doesn't occur to him until then just how much. He feels like he's been left behind.

"Why, because of your baby face?" he weakly teases.

She puffs up her cheeks and curls her hands into small fists. "Yes, but you don't have to rub it in! Geeze… all these years and you haven't changed a bit have you? I thought maybe by now you'd..." 

She trails off, as if sensing the atmosphere that settles around them: thick and heavy with the weight of everything they'd left unspoken.

Felix shifts awkwardly. He has so much to say to her. So much he needs to apologize for. But… 

"Anyways," she says, breaking the silence, "I'm sure I'm overthinking it and I'll be fine. What about you? What have you been up to?"

He wants nothing more than to leave when she trains her unwavering gaze upon him.

If Felix looks outside he can see Claude lounging by the side of the pool with his feet in the water, talking to a girl Felix doesn't know, and longs to be there rather than here with a desperation he didn't think was possible.

He could make a break for it if he wanted to. Evade answering and just run outside and hopefully never talk to her again. 

...but this is Annie. He could never do that to her.

"I'm working for my old man right now."

"Oh! That's great!" she says, clapping her hands together.

"Yeah, it's… not bad. There are definitely worse jobs out there. It's a steady income, and secure, so I can't complain."

"Good. That's really good. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

"How is your father, anyway?"

"The same as ever, if not more of a workaholic. But he's been trying out dating apps lately, so _that's_ been interesting."

_"Really?"_

"Yes, he's very into it. I think he has more fun looking through people's profiles than connecting with anyone though."

"Guess we're all looking for love, huh…" Annie taps her chin in thought. "What about you?" she asks.

"What about me?"

"Are you - " she stops, and seems to think better of it. "Actually, forget it. It's none of my business."

He knows what she wants to ask, but he's glad she doesn't. He's curious about it too. Has _she_ found someone else? Is she looking?

"Hey, Annie - "

"Yeah?" She tilts her head.

"About what I said last time I - last time we - " he falters and looks away, unable to bring himself to say it. "Nevermind. It's nothing." 

_Coward. You're such a fucking coward._

"Oh. Okay."

They lapse into silence again. Felix has no idea what else to say. What else to do. Out of the two of them, Annie was always more of the talker, and if she's having trouble keeping the conversation going, there's no hope for him.

She seems to sense this too, however, because to his relief she inhales loudly and says, "Well, I should… I should get back to what I was doing then and let you go. I came into the kitchen to get a glass of water for a friend when I saw you, and he's probably wondering where I am. It was good to see you again, Felix. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "You too. It was nice seeing you. Be careful. There's a guy passed out on the floor over there."

She looks to where he's pointing with an 'Oh!' before she wiggles her fingers at him in a wave and he slips outside as she turns to the cupboards to grab a glass.

The bustle of chatter fills his ears the moment he shuts the door behind him. It's only then that he feels like he can breathe again. 

He runs his hands through his hair, suddenly feeling exhausted as the adrenaline drains from his body. 

_Claude_ , he reminds himself. You're _out here to find Claude, remember?_

Felix pulls himself together enough to wade through the clumps of people standing around with their drinks on his way to the poolside. Just how many people does Claude know anyway??

Claude looks up as Felix approaches, and his smile quickly falls into a frown as he scans his face.

Felix knows what he must look like. Pale and a little shaky. Eyes too wide, breathing too shallow, and he's willing to bet his hair is a mess again. 

"Hey," Felix says, sitting down beside him. He sticks his feet into the water too. It's cool. Pleasant.

Claude stares at him as he does, and so does the girl he was talking to.

"Hey…" he says, slowly. "You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?"

_Not really._

"Yeah, it's just something I ate." _And not because I was chatting up a sex worker or avoiding you and my ex and everyone else here or anything._ "I'm fine now."

Claude doesn't prod him for further information. Merely nods, and Felix lets him take his hand. 

Something about being next to Claude is calming. 

The easy and relaxed way he approaches conversation helps to smooth Felix's frayed nerves from his encounter with Annette, and is similar to how he feels when he's talking to Alex.

 _Imagine_ , he thinks, _if they were the same person_.

Of course, that's impossible. Felix has _talked_ to Claude on the phone before, and he and Alex sound completely different.

It would just be easier if they were.

-

He doesn't quite know how it happens, but somehow over the course of the night Felix finds himself several more drinks deep, and being indoctrinated into a friend group that Claude affectionately refers to as his _Deer._ He briefly explains to Felix that they're highschool friends.

"Obviously you know Leonie and Marianne, so you already know Hilda. You met Lysithea and Ignatz earlier, so I guess the only ones you haven't met are Raphael and Lorenz."

"Lorenz glared at me when I got here, I think that counts," Felix points out.

"Oh... yeah, he's in a bit of a mood today," Ignatz says with a grimace. "That must be why he's avoiding us."

"I'm actually surprised he even showed up," Leonie comments. She casually slings her arm around Felix's shoulder, sandwiching him between her and Claude. "I thought you guys weren't on speaking terms right now."

Claude tilts his head back and laughs, halfheartedly. "We're not. He told me he only came because of Marianne. And Sylvain, for some reason."

"Weird…" Hilda says, offering Felix her vape. He takes it and raises his brow in question.

"To help you relax," she says. "You look super tense. "

"I don't like being around so many people," he says. "No offense."

She shrugs. "None taken, don't worry about it."

He takes a drag from the offered vape. It tastes like bubblegum, because of course it does. Hilda's obsession with all things pink and cute couldn't be more obvious if she tried.

He passes it off to Leonie next instead of returning it, exhaling through his nose, and Claude leans in to whisper, his lips brushing against Felix's ear, "My friends can be a bit much when we're all together like this. If you're feeling overwhelmed at any point, just let me know, okay?" 

Felix shivers, ducking his head away. Damn sensitive ears. "Sure."

-

Felix is fine for a while. 

He hangs out with the Deer until they eventually get dragged off one by one into a game of beer pong by Hilda, and then it's just him and Claude left. Between the drinks and the weed, Felix is relaxed and content like a fat house cat, curled up beside and exchanging lazy kisses with Claude on his grandfather's stupidly plush living room couch.

In fact, he's fine up until it's two a.m. and things are winding down, when Sylvain finds him and drunkenly announces without warning - startling Felix away from Claude - that he and Linhardt are leaving.

"Feeeelix… are you gonna stay here, or do you wanna ride home with us?" Sylvain slurs, leaning on poor Linhardt - who looks like he's about to collapse under his weight - for support. "Oohhh, maybe not…" 

Claude's hand is still in Felix's hair.

"Do you mind?" Felix says.

Sylvain giggles, taking an eyeful of the scene before him. Fuck he is ever wasted if he's _giggling_. "Nope! You guys look like you're having fun. Should we just leave you here?"

Felix frowns and untangles his limbs from Claude to face Sylvain properly. 

A cold lance of fear pierces through Felix when he notices the keys twirling around Sylvain's finger. It yanks him back into sobriety, and he acts without thinking, body moving on its own. He practically jumps off the couch and rips them out of Sylvain's hand.

"What the fuck, Sylvain?" he demands, holding them to his chest. "Why do you have these? What are you doing? Where's Ingrid?"

Sylvain blinks dopily at his now empty fingers, then at Felix. "Wha…? I was just holding them," he mumbles, furrowing his brow. "Why're you so mad, I wasn't gonna go anywhere…"

He raises his voice, aware he's making a scene but unable to stop himself _. "You know why!"_

"Yeah but…" Sylvain stares at him, eyes now the size of saucers. "I wasn't gonna - I know I'm a little fucked up, but you don't have to yell at me! I wouldn't do that…"

"Hey, guys, is everything okay?" Claude gets to his feet, laying his hand on Felix's shoulder.

"Everything is fine," Linhardt says. He holds out his open palm to Felix, motioning for him to hand over the keys. "Give me those. _I'm_ driving. I haven't been drinking."

Sylvain whips his head around to Lin, gaping at him. "You can drive?"

"I'm lazy," Lin says, rolling his eyes, "but I'm not inept. Of course I can drive. How else did you expect to get home?"

"Ingrid maybe…?"

"You," Felix barks, pointing at Linhardt, "let me smell your breath."

He has the nerve to look offended.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Claude squeezes his shoulder. "Felix…"

"Felix, _come on…"_

"Be quiet, Sylvain. I'm not letting him drive you home if he's fucked up, too."

"Fine," Linhardt concedes. "Go ahead." He shrugs Sylvain's weight off of his shoulder, though Sylvain takes his hand and refuses to let go of it. He opens his mouth for Felix.

Felix sniffs. It smells like a mix of popcorn and the stale and sour smell of coffee, but no liquor, or beer. He doesn't smell like any other substances either.

"Well?" Lin asks, bored. "Do I pass your inspection? If that's all, we'll be on our way."

"Yeah," Felix mutters, handing over the keys and backing off. "But where the fuck is Ingrid?"

"Keeping Annie occupied and away from you," Sylvain says with a pout. "She wouldn't even gimme a goodnight kiss when I said I was leaving."

"Oh."

"Come along then, dear," drawls Linhardt, pulling on Sylvain's hand. "Let's get you home and to bed."

"Okaaay." Sylvain kisses his cheek with a wet _smack_ that has Lin wiping his face in mild disgust. "But you're gonna stay the night, right?"

"Yes, yes."

"You're the best, Lin," he coos. He waves to Felix and Claude with more enthusiasm than necessary as Linhardt directs him towards the hallway to the front foyer. "Byyeeee…"

Felix watches them go, worry tying his stomach into knots despite reassurances from Claude that Sylvain will be fine. He coaxes Felix into sitting back down with him.

"Sorry you had to see that," Felix says, pinching his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead. 

"It's okay, I get it."

 _Do you?_ he can't help but wonder.

"Who's Annie, by the way?"

He… has had a lot of conversations tonight that have wrung far too many emotions out of him to deal with this question right now. 

"My ex," he says. And before Claude can question him further, Felix climbs on his lap and shuts him up.

-

He stays the night, but he can't sleep.

He stares at the far wall of Claude's bedroom, consciously aware of the hot breath wafting over his neck and the loose, casual way Claude's arm settles over his hip. 

Stupidly, he considers going for a walk, before he remembers that he's in an unfamiliar neighbourhood and it's the middle of the fucking night. That and his phone is at 2% last he checked, the bed is comfortable, and all he really wants to do is sleep.

What does he do in his hazy state instead? He thinks of Alex.

Warmth buoys in his chest as he recalls their latest call, and he wonders if he's awake. Where he is, what he's doing now, what he does when he's not taking calls, and most importantly:

Is he thinking about Felix?

 _Probably not_.

But it'd be nice if he was, especially because Felix always thinks about _him_.

His heart rate picks up and he buries his face in a pillow, embarrassed to even consider it.

_Really nice._

It doesn't take long after that for him to fall asleep.

-

Dimitri is wide awake.

After chasing sleep all night and finding only nightmares, he sits on the couch in front of his television, borderline catatonic, and watches old drama films with a throw pillow clutched to his chest. 

He thinks of many things; of his father, his mother, how his sister is settling into her new home. He even thinks about his cranky eighty-four year old neighbour that still walks her dog every morning at the crack of dawn. And how she always brings him homemade cookies that are so damn hard they could break his teeth.

But most of all he thinks of Noah - stubborn, headstrong, obstinate Noah - and he sighs. 

He wonders what he's up to, and hopes that whatever it is, he is having a better night than Dimitri is.


	7. to be felix, 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he never learned how to read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christ, this one ballooned up by accident  
> more than the last one  
> if it reads like bad porn i'm sorry lol  
> Contains past dimidue and minor ashedue  
> cw: mentions of daddy kink, spanking, choking, dirty talk

Dimitri struggles to let himself into his apartment.

A squirming bundle in one arm and bags of pet and drug store supplies hanging off his other arm are proving difficult to juggle at the same time he's trying to unlock his door.

"Easy, little one. Easy," he reassures, tugging the small puppy under his arm closer to his chest. "I'll let you down once we're inside, okay?"

When he finally manages to open the door and flips on the light, illuminating his apartment, the first thing he notices is that it's _very_ cold.

The second thing he notices is that there's a small plastic container sitting on his kitchen island that's full of muffins, as well as a note.

He will read it later, as he has something more important to attend to, but Mercedes' continued generosity never ceases to put a smile on his face, no matter how long or busy his work day.

-

The pup is very small - likely no more than a few weeks old, and lets out tiny whimpers every time Dimitri moves. Now that they're in the light, Dimitri can see the poor thing's golden fur is absolutely caked in mud, and that she's favouring one of her hind legs when he places her on the counter to assess her condition further. 

Of all the things to encounter on his drive home, an abandoned puppy crawling in the ditch was not one of them.

"You're in quite the state right now, aren't you, sweetheart?" he murmurs, carefully checking for broken bones and injuries. Over the years he's learned to temper his strength, but he's still terrified of handling very delicate or small things - and this little stray is both. She's completely dwarfed by his hands. "I wonder who could be so heartless as to leave you on the side of the road like that. No mother, no family…" 

The pup howls weakly in response when Dimitri gets to her left hind leg, and he worries that something might be broken or sprained as he gently probes the area. But with the vet clinics closed, he won't be able to find out for sure until tomorrow.

For now, he digs through the two bags he carried in with him and sets to the task of washing, and tending to the pup. Unsure of her age, he chooses to bottle feed her with puppy formula and sets her to sleep in a large box next to his bed, swaddled in some blankets for the night before he makes dinner.

He decides he'll call in the morning before he leaves for work to have the puppy properly looked at, and snaps a quick photo of her sleeping face to upload to his twitter.

Dimitri @d.mitri • 10s

Look what I found at the side of the road on my way home today. ).

-

Dimitri's shift as a mechanic for Alois' AutoBody begins at eight a.m., so he normally sets his alarm for seven. But this time he's woken up at quarter after six after a fitful night's sleep by insistent, whining barks. He squints at his phone and rubs the sleep from his eye before tossing off the covers and checking in on his hungry rescue. 

With a sigh he unravels the puppy from the blankets she's managed to tangle herself up in, scoops her up, and meanders off to the kitchen for an early breakfast.

Once she's well fed and tucked back into bed, he makes a phone call.

"...Didi, it's seven o'clock. Why are you calling me so early?" answers a groggy voice. He feels bad for having woken Hapi up, but he's run into a problem he was too tired to consider last night, and she's the only one that can help him on such short notice.

"I'm so sorry for waking you up," he says, balancing his cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he peels apart some ham slices to add to his sandwich. "It's… I have a bit of a situation I need your help with, I'm afraid."

Hapi yawns, smacking her lips together before she mumbles, "A situation that can't wait until I'm awake?"

"I'm afraid not. It's an emergency."

"What is it? What happened?"

"I found an abandoned puppy on my way home from work last night, but I have to leave soon and I can't leave her alone all day. I was wondering if you could…?"

"Look after her while you're gone?" she guesses.

"...please?"

"...Fine, fine. Bring her over."

-

"You're lucky you're cute, Didi," Hapi grumbles when she opens her door, dressed in sleep shorts and a baggy shirt that reads _straight out of bed._ It's a bit too on the nose, he thinks, but maybe that's the point. "I wouldn't do this for just anyone you know."

"I know," he says, smiling apologetically. "Thank you so much." 

She extends her arms to take the box. 

"I'll have my boss take a look when she gets in today. You said you think one of her legs might be broken?"

"Maybe," he says, "but I'm not sure. The back left leg."

She nods, smiling as she peeks inside the box. "Okay, I'll let her know. Are you planning to keep her or…?"

"I haven't decided yet. If I do, it will only be until I can find someone willing to adopt her. Dogs are a lot of responsibility and I'm afraid I won't have the time in my schedule to give her the love and attention she requires." He fiddles with his keys tucked in his coveralls.

Hapi gives him a sympathetic look and gently sets the box down inside the house. "Well, in the meantime, we'll look after her in the clinic for you. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Hapi. I owe you one."

-

With that taken care of, Dimitri can resume his day as usual. His twitter followers bombard his post throughout the day with questions about the puppy that he doesn't get the chance to read until much later. 

Dimitri @d.mitri • 3m

Thank you all for your lovely comments!

My schedule is too busy for me to adequately take care of her, so if anyone is interested in adopting a puppy or knows someone who is, please comment and let me know!

Dimitri @d.mitri • 1m

She is still too young to go to a new home just yet, but I will keep you all updated in the coming weeks. (.

-

 _No puppy,_ he thinks when he returns to his apartment Friday night.

_"We're treating her for mites, malnutrition and a broken tibia," Hapi informs him. "We'd like her to stay here for a while so we can keep an eye on her recovery, if that's okay?"_

_"Do whatever you need to do," he says, speaking loudly over the whir of an impact wrench. "You are the professionals, after all."_

And he has no plans either, which means it's time for him to get to work.

Dimitri's weekday schedule is occupied with his shifts at the shop, workouts at the gym with his friend Raphael, as well as a few other miscellaneous small errands. 

While his _weekend_ schedule is reserved for appointments, overtime at the body shop, and…

_"I'm so glad I finally got through. You've been on my mind all day, and I'm working late tonight. I need to take some of the edge off or I'm gonna go crazy."_

...something of a different nature altogether. A sordid nighttime secret he keeps from most people he knows, and one that he _especially_ keeps from his therapist.

He suspects working as a phone sex operator isn't a sanctioned form of treatment or acceptable coping mechanism, but is, quite frankly, too afraid of what Dr. Casagranda will think of him if he tells her. 

Perhaps one day they will have that conversation - a day in the distant future where it is no longer a part of his present reality and merely a relic of the past.

A day where his career is blossoming and he can joke about it over a glass of wine and dinner with friends.

That sounds nice.

Dimitri turns what he dubs his _work phone_ on around nine to accept calls, and works until about one or two a.m. depending on the night. Most of his clients live in similar time zones, but the occasional few are hours ahead or behind depending where they're from.

The guy he's currently on the phone with is about three hours behind, and often works from home. Dimitri only knows this because he always calls late at night and seemed surprised the first time Dimitri told him he would be his last client for the night.

As far as Dimitri's regulars go, Markus is probably one of his favourites. Even if he sometimes makes Dimitri uncomfortable and toes the line of _too much,_ he still somehow manages to pull back _just_ enough that Dimitri doesn't have to permanently block his number.

 _"Come sit on Daddy's lap, little prince,"_ he's saying, and Dimitri can't help but roll his good eye with a grimace. _"I have something for you that I think you'll like."_

"A gift for me?" Dimitri gasps, all wide eyes and quiet wonder; the illusion of a bright-eyed innocent. "Oh, Markus, You didn't have to. I don't have anything to give you in return?"

_"That cute little ass of yours is enough of a gift for me, baby. Besides, I like giving you presents."_

Each of his regular clients have a _thing_ when they call. A fantasy, a fetish, something that they've always wanted to try but are too afraid to do so in real life, etc., and Markus is no exception. 

Markus' thing is that he _really_ wants to be someone's sugar daddy. 

He alludes to taking care of Dimitri outside of their play acting all the time. Tells him he would buy him anything he wants; clothes, cars, shoes, watches, all expenses paid vacations, _you name it, little prince, and it's yours._

But Dimitri has no interest in being anyone's sugar _anything_ , and at the end of the day, all Markus is is a harmless and horny forty-seven year old divorcee with a saviour complex and more time and money on his hands than he knows what to do with.

So Dimitri doesn't mind when he calls, because he knows it won't amount to anything, and all he has to do is throw in enough fake sighs and moans and Markus will essentially take care of himself.

And hell, as long as he's getting paid, he can deal with his daddy kink, too.

Dimitri takes his phone and wireless headset into his living room and picks out a set out of weights to keep himself busy, as Markus tells him, with very little foreplay, _"I can't wait to fuck you."_

He fake moans in reply. "Yes, please," he says. "Fill me up."

_"You want my cock, baby?"_

"Ah...yes, _yes._ You always feel so good inside me."

If there's one thing Dimitri knows about Markus, it's that he likes it when Dimitri is _loud_. So Dimitri does what he does best; fakes it all just for him. 

Grunting, and panting and crying out, "Yes, yes! Give it to me, harder! _Harder!"_ when he knows Markus is at his peak, while Dimitri stands there, lifting a dumbbell in each hand with a grunt, because he figures at least _some_ of his noises should be real. 

Sex with Markus is so routine by now Dimitri is often so bored with it that he needs to occupy his brain with something else. He feels bad for his elderly neighbour - the one with the dog - but she's half-deaf and sleeps at eight, and has never once complained to him about the noise so he's probably in the clear.

Dimitri suspects it is also because he is the only neighbour in their building that she likes.

Markus comes with an emphatic moan of satisfaction after just a few minutes, and thank Sothis he does because Dimitri's throat is sore from pretending to enjoy having his guts rearranged like a game of Tetris.

 _"Mmm...thanks, baby boy,"_ Markus says, once he's recovered enough to speak. _"I needed that. You're always so good to me."_

Dimitri laughs under his breath, lifting the weights above his head. "On the contrary, it's _you_ who is good to me," he counters.

 _"Not as much as you deserve,"_ he disagrees. _"But I could be. If you were mine, I would give you anything you wanted. I mean that."_

He doesn't doubt it. If Markus were to ever find someone to spend his money on, they would be spoiled rotten for sure.

Not that Dimitri believes in buying someone's affections. The whole idea makes his skin crawl. He's always loved for, well, _love_. 

"You'd really spoil me, hm?" he murmurs.

 _"You know it, baby,"_ Markus says. His voice has taken on a lazy, lethargic quality that Dimitri feels deep in his own bones. 

As with most calls of this nature, there is a lot more involved when he's pretending to get fucked that by the end he's just...drained.

After Markus promises to call again and they say their goodbyes, Dimitri hangs up with a sigh. He turns off his phone and puts away the weights and his headset, then slides open the screen of his balcony door, stepping out into the cool night for some fresh air.

Summer never lasts long in Fhirdiad, and by next month it'll reach its end. Sure he'll be back to school soon, and another year closer to his goal, but he can't help lamenting the passage of time and the changing of the seasons, all the same.

He takes a deep breath and folds his arms over the balcony ledge, resting his chin, and stares down at the cars below. The headlights whizzing by, the glow of store signs, the streetlamps lining the roads, and the chatter of pedestrians walking along the sidewalk all speak of a city that never sleeps.

Like its occupants.

Like Dimitri.

 _Another sleepless night?_ he wonders, glancing up at the sky to watch the glimmer of a plane fly by.

Maybe if he's lucky, he'll nod off out here. Lulled into sleep by the sounds of his city.

He loves it here, but sometimes he wishes he could see the stars.

-

Saturday proceeds in much the same manner as Friday. The shop closes earlier because Dimitri's boss, Alois (a father with an endless repertoire of dad jokes that Dimitri can't get enough of because they're so awful) takes his kids and his wife out for dinner every Saturday night. 

It works out well for Dimitri because, in the end, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night and is running on fumes, sheer will power, and his third cup of coffee of the day.

When he gets home, he sinks into bed, damp and naked after a nice hot shower, and manages to take a nap for about an hour and a half until his stomach growls and reminds him that he hasn't eaten all day.

It takes him a lot of effort, but he manages to drag himself out of bed and throw on a pair of pants and a loose shirt before heading into the kitchen.

He opens the fridge and stares at its contents. Closes it, leaves it, then goes back to open it again as if something's changed in the minute he hadn't looked inside.

In the end, he takes nothing, closes it, and grabs a box of soup from the cupboard instead.

Mechanically, he rips open a packet of instant chicken noodle soup (the box cheerfully exclaims _now with 25% less salt than our usual recipe!)_ and the whole thing _explodes_ its contents all over the stove and the floor.

He stares blankly at the noodles and broth powder everywhere in silence.

Then, solemnly, he turns off the boiling pot of water he was trying to fill and sinks to the floor beside the stove, burying his face in his hands. 

_Would it kill you to do something right for once? Can't you do anything without screwing it up?_

Dimitri inhales deeply and wills away the echo of his uncle's voice, as well as the tears of frustration and exhaustion. 

It's not a big deal. It's nothing to get upset about. 

_Accidents happen when you're tired. It says nothing about your worth as a person,_ he reminds himself.

He's just hungry, and _so_ tired. All he wants is to make some damn soup. Is that so much to ask for?

After a few minutes of simply existing on his kitchen floor, Dimitri finally wipes his face and collects himself. He stands up and cleans off the stove before trying again, and this time he carefully cuts open the package.

Once dinner is finished and dishes are clean, he checks his phone notifications and text messages and boots up his laptop.

Before he knows it, he's spent two hours dozing off at his computer desk, while vine compilations play in the background.

He watches the numbers change from 20:59 to 21:00 on his screen as if in slow motion, and reluctantly turns on his phone, wondering if he can expect a call from Noah tonight.

-

For the first hour or so, he gets several first-timers before any of his regulars make it through.

Tonight is Callum's turn.

Dimitri doesn't know as much about him as he does about Markus, since he doesn't typically stay on the line for very long once they finish, but he does know a few things:

  1. He claims to be a virgin and has ever kissed anyone in his life,
  2. Humiliation and CBT are two of his biggest kinks and
  3. He once appeared on television for winning a pie eating contest when he was sixteen years old.



Dimitri doesn't remember how the last piece of trivia came up, but it's stuck ever since.

Now, Callum is a different breed than some of his other regulars. He _only_ likes The Beast, and when Dimitri gets as explicit and nasty with him as possible. To the point where Dimitri worries that he's rewired Callum's brain circuitry somehow and made him addicted to pain and punishment.

He's calling less these days though, which Dimitri is secretly glad for, because he's actually afraid of the extremes Callum will go to for the sake of pleasure.

(But the rush of power that he feels when he's ordering Cal to spank himself, when he denies him his pleasure, or whispers his every dark and twisted fantasy into his ear, however, is nothing short of intoxicating. So maybe it's not him that Dimitri needs to fear for. Maybe it's Dimitri himself.)

This call is surprisingly tame by Cal's standards. He is as enthusiastic as he ever is, and compliant (in every way Noah _isn't)_ , but he explains that he doesn't want to go as hard as he normally does today.

Dimitri finds out why within the first few minutes of the call: he is going out tonight with his friends, and is hoping to finally score with someone.

_"I called because I'm super nervous, and I thought you could like, fuck it out of me before I go anywhere?"_

"You really are a pathetic piece of shit, aren't you?" Dimitri boredly replies, voice dripping with disgust as he easily slips into the skin of The Beast. "Fine. Get on the bed and spread your legs for me."

-

It's quick, a little messy (probably), and before he knows it, they're almost done.

Of course, that's also about the time Dimitri's laptop decides to notify him that he has an incoming video call.

Instead of ignoring it like he normally would, he answers when he sees who's calling.

In addition to being one of the most well known and celebrated young chefs in all of Duscur - Dimitri's ex, Dedue, is also possibly the world's number one authority on _Dimitri_ as well. More than Dr. Casagranda, and even Dimitri himself. 

So it comes as no surprise that when Dimitri accepts the call, Dedue already knows what he's doing and holds off on greeting him.

Dimitri instructs Callum to give himself fifteen lashes on each ass cheek with his riding crop and sneers, _"I better be able to hear them,"_ right before he mutes the call and beams at Dedue's inscrutable expression. 

"Hello, stranger," he says, turning up the sound. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Dimitri," Dedue says, nodding in that solemn way of his, before the smallest of smiles pulls the corners of his mouth upwards. "No reason in particular. It has been a while since we talked last, I wanted to see how you were doing. Is this a bad time? Should I call back later?"

"Mm, I've been well, all things considered," he says, while the sound of leather slapping skin fills his ears. Cal gets very into it, even without being told, which is always nice. "And no, it's alright. I'm almost done."

"You look tired," Dedue crackles through his laptop speaker. His handsome face looks as serious as ever when he says it, but Dimitri knows what that furrow between his eyebrows means. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Dimitri averts his eye and fiddles with his headset.

"Mostly," he says. Not a complete lie, but not the truth either. He sleeps enough that he doesn't collapse during the day (most days), but he's still consistently getting less than four hours a night.

Cal whimpers when he finishes his punishment, and waits for further instructions. _"Please,"_ he begs. _"Please, I want to come. Let me come - "_

"What do you mean _mostly?"_

Dimitri holds up his finger to Dedue and unmutes his phone.

"Are you really crying for me? Do you need my cock so bad you'll die without it?" he growls into his mic, looking away from his laptop screen.

Cal whines the affirmative and Dimitri laughs at him. "Well, that's too bad, because I don't think you deserve it. I only counted twelve for each side. Finish yourself off and get out of my sight. I'm sick of looking at you."

He mutes his phone again and looks back at Dedue. Cal's panting rises in volume the closer he gets to climax, but they've done this same song and dance so many times it's easy to tune him out. 

"Saints, Dimitri," he sighs. "Is it because of that?"Dedue points to his own ear, indicating Dimitri's headset.

Dimitri shakes his head.

"No, it's…"

"Nightmares?" Dedue tries.

Dimitri shrugs. "Sometimes. I think I might be experiencing some side effects with my new medication. I'm going to discuss it with Dr. Casagranda next week when I see her. My schedule has just been so tight lately that I've had to cancel a couple of appointments this month."

"Because of work?"

"Yes. This summer has been busy and Alois said he could use the extra help at the shop, so I've been working a lot more overtime lately - don't give me that look, Dedue, I'm _fine_. _"_

"I'm worried about you. I'm afraid you're running yourself ragged on top of everything else you have to deal with."

"I know that, but I'm fine."

"Which is why you're still letting strange men call you all night." It's not a question. While Dedue understands, he's never been one to condone what he does. "Because you're fine."

"Not _all_ night," he insists. "Only part of it. I need the extra money. You know that."

"Then don't do this anymore. Ask your sister for it. Or ask _me_. We would be more than willing to help out if you're struggling."

"I can't do that. Not to you and Ashe, or to El. You two have a business to take care of, and she's done so much for me already. It's just for a little while longer! Enough for me to pay down my loans, that's all."

"I'm worried about you," he repeats.

Dimitri sighs.

"Dedue…"

"Dimitri."

"Dedue."

_"Dimitri."_

Dedue glares at him from the screen and he glares back. They're caught in a silent staring contest.

Callum, meanwhile, comes with little fanfare - a quiet exhalation, in contrast to all his whining and, not one for aftercare, says _thank you I needed that_ , _wish me luck_ , and hangs up.

Dedue breaks first and his expression softens into something sad.

"I realize I cannot force you into quitting, but I think it's worthwhile to consider other avenues for work. What about your friend Raphael. Doesn't he work at the gym? I'm sure their hours are flexible and they pay better than Alois does."

"Not if I'm getting paid overtime they don't," he argues.

"And when you start school again in a few weeks?"

"I'll figure it out."

 _"Dedue, who are you talking to?"_ a voice from offscreen asks. _"Oh, is that Dimitri?"_

Ashe, Dedue's fiancé, pops into the screen beside him with a bright smile and a wave.

"It is! Hey Dimitri!" he says, followed closely by: "Wow. You look like shit! Are you okay?"

"Hello Ashe. I'm perfectly well. Dedue is just - "

"I'm not overreacting. You're working yourself to death. Ashe, please tell him he's working himself to death, he won't listen to me."

"I know what exhaustion looks like," Ashe says. "It's written all over your face."

Dimitri knows what they must be seeing in the pale light of his screen. The dark circles under his eyes, the chapped lips, his limp and unkempt hair. 

He makes a note to get a haircut soon. It's getting long again.

"Please don't die on us, okay? There's this new cheese soufflé you have to try the next time you're in Duscur, and you kind of need to be alive to do that."

Dimitri quirks a smile at that and brushes his hair from his face. "I will do my best, I promise. And I look forward to it."

That seems to satisfy Ashe at least, but Dedue never quite relaxes his expression, even as Ashe takes over the conversation and brings Dimitri up to speed on everything that's been happening since they last spoke. 

Happiness swells in his chest to witness _their_ happiness. The way it bleeds through the words they speak of each other, and the subtle touches and looks that wordlessly convey the love that binds them together. 

Once upon a time he might have been jealous of them, but Dimitri has come to realize, as he gets older, that expending his energy on those negative feelings only stands to make him miserable in the long run. So he's learned to let go.

*

They go a long time without being interrupted, which is unusual, but turns out to be a blessing in disguise when Dimitri's cell phone lights up and a familiar name and number finally flashes on the screen.

Ah…

Dimitri's face twists into something complicated.

Dedue asks, "Is something wrong?" as Dimitri heaves a sigh and swipes the bottle of ibuprofen beside his laptop, dry swallowing two tablets.

"Headache," Dimitri says, holding up his phone. "Can I call you back later? This is going to take a while."

As much as Dimitri doesn't want to say it, because he _likes_ talking to him (most of the time) Noah is not what one would call an ideal client. He's too stubborn, too prideful, and too much of a hothead to be anything but a pain in the ass. If it weren't for the fact that he keeps calling, and that he's been very vocal about it, Dimitri would be sure that he doesn't derive any pleasure from their sessions at all.

"Hello, my love," he greets him as The Prince, pulling up a game of solitaire on his laptop in preparation for what he knows will be a _very_ long call. "Up late again, are we?"

 _"It's not that late,"_ comes Noah's gruff reply. _"It's only eleven."_

"It's late enough."

 _"Yeah, maybe if you're an old man,"_ he snorts. _"Are you?"_

_No, but some days it feels like it._

"That depends," he says, "on what you consider to be old."

_"I'd say sixty-five and older."_

"Then no. I'm about forty-years too early for that."

_"So you say."_

"I do, but I _could_ be lying."

 _"That'd be disappointing,"_ Noah says quietly, more to himself than to Dimitri. Dimitri stares down his deck, shuffling through it for his next move.

"What was that?"

_"I said it would be disappointing. But also gross because I don't want to picture a sixty some-odd man sticking his fingers in my ass, thanks."_

Dimitri snickers fondly. Noah is always so crass and unfiltered. Talking to him like this is nice.

"Not even if he's a... what do they call them? A silver fox?"

 _"Why do I get the feeling that that's your target demographic?"_ Noah grumbles. _"Or old divorced men who miss getting their dick wet."_

"That's a rather crude way to put it. How old did you say you were again?"

_"I didn't, but I'm the same age as you, if you're telling the truth."_

"You're one of the youngest then. I would say the average age of my clients is mid to late forties and fifties."

_"Men only?"_

"Some women, too. Is there any particular reason why you're so curious?"

_"I don't know. Maybe. I want to know where I rate, I guess."_

Dimitri can't keep the sarcasm from his voice, as much as he tries (which admittedly, isn't much at all). "Eleven out of ten stars," he says. "Would one hundred percent recommend you to everyone."

_"Okay, now you're just being a dick."_

*

Since Noah called him from that party several weeks ago, he's started to hear from him a lot more often. Once, sometimes twice a week.

They engage in their usual banter, Noah is bossy, and he purposely goads Dimitri into snapping back like he wants something he's too afraid to ask for. Then when he's all worked up, he fucks himself with his fingers or jerks off while Dimitri awards him with praise, and finishes the last few pages of his crossword puzzle book.

And then they...talk. 

Post-sex, Noah is relaxed and surprisingly chatty. He gripes about work and his father, talks about his friends, how his boxing lessons are going, and sometimes he'll even talk about the guy he's been seeing.

_"It's casual," Noah insists, when Dimitri vehemently reminds him that he's fundamentally against engaging in any sexual activity with clients who are already in a relationship._

_"We might fool around, but he's not my boyfriend. I don't know if I'm ready for another commitment like that right now. With someone like him."_

_"Because of your ex?"_

_A long pause follows. Dimitri's not sure what to make of it._

_"...Not exactly."_

_But when Dimitri tries to probe him for more information, Noah clams up and refuses to answer._

_"Anyways, I thought about when we last talked. Last had sex?"_ Dimitri hears Noah mumbling to himself, something that sounds like 'is this considered sex?' like they haven't been doing this for a couple of months already and it's still a mystery. _"I wanted to try something, so I bought some...essentials."_

Dimitri perks up. 

_This is new._

"Essentials?" he asks. "What did you buy?"

 _"Um…"_ there's the sound of movement and a plastic bag - Noah fumbling around with whatever he's purchased. _"A few things…"_ he says, evasively.

His deep voice is pinched with embarrassment. More than usual. Dimitri's curiosity only grows.

"Like what, darling?" he coaxes. "Don't be shy, you can tell me."

Noah takes a deep breath. _"Iboughtsometoys_ ," he says in a rush, _"...and some numbing lube. Just in case."_

Oh.

_Ohhh._

Dimitri smirks. Now _this_ is interesting. 

"Did you now," he says, purposely lowering his voice. "Do you want to play with those tonight?"

 _"Maybe,"_ Noah mumbles. _"There's uh… I got a vibrator and a dildo. I don't remember the last time I used any of this stuff."_

"You don't like toys?"

_"No, they're fine. I'm just used to using my hands. But since last time we did this my wrist cramped so bad the next day I could barely use it, I thought I should look into some alternatives. They're so expensive, though."_

"Everyone needs to make money, unfortunately. I'm sorry about your hand, by the way."

_"Thanks. And I know, but you have to admit a hundred dollars for a vibrator is outrageous, isn't it?"_

"You paid a hundred dollars?" 

_"Hell no. This one was sixty."_ A beat. _"Say… do you think anyone sells their used toys anywhere for cheaper?"_

They both fall silent, thinking about it. Dimitri's nose wrinkles.

 _"On second thought, I don't want to think about that, because even if you clean it it's still…nasty."_ Noah says, echoing Dimitri's own thoughts on the matter _. "You never know what people have done with them."_

Dimitri agrees. "Absolutely. And besides, half the fun of a new toy is breaking it in. You don't get to do that with used products." 

Meanwhile, Dimitri can't remember the last time he used any on himself or with a partner. The ones he owns are buried somewhere deep in his closet, along with several other boxes that remain packed from when he moved apartments last year. 

"So, darling," he drawls, moving right along, "why don't we choose one for tonight? Break it in together."

 _"You mean_ **_I_ ** _choose one. You can't even see what they look like."_

Dimitri closes his eye and slowly counts backwards from five.

"Yes of course," he says, after a moment. "My mistake."

 _"Hm. Okay, the uh… I guess I'll try this then."_ More shuffling, the opening of a box. _"It's uh - it's the dildo, by the way. Now that I've taken it out of the box it's...hm."_

"Is something wrong with it? You seem unsure."

_"No, I just - it's just - it's nothing. Let's get on with it."_

"We'll have to prepare you first if it's been as long as you say. Finger yourself for me, would you?"

_"Don't tell me what to do."_

He hears a cap snap open regardless of Noah's attempt at posturing. He does a poor job of hiding his desire to be ordered around, yet still tries to deny that he enjoys it.

"Noah… You want to come tonight, don't you?"

 _"I'm going to come whether you help me get there or not,_ " he replies, smugly, and Dimitri drags an exasperated hand down his face.

Noah is _very_ lucky that Dimitri likes the sound of his voice.

If he had to describe it to someone, he would say that it's rich and creamy like dark chocolate ganache. In _theory_ , it should drive him crazy. If he knew how to properly use it, Dimitri would be devastated. 

But Noah is argumentative and often a poor listener, which is why when Dimitri should be popping a boner, he pops two painkillers and prays to the Goddess for patience instead. 

But at the same time…

While Noah _is_ a handful, Dimitri can tell that beneath his profanity and awful attitude, he's also a very sad and lonely young man. And Dimitri, soft-hearted as he is, feels for him. 

Except… now is really not the time to be sympathetic. 

"You're a brat," Dimitri tells him, lacking his usual princely inflection.

_"Yeah, okay. Or maybe you aren't doing your job properly. Ever think of that?"_

Ah. He's grateful he had the foresight to take those painkillers now.

"I'll disconnect this call if you don't behave," he warns, sweetly. He moves a stack of cards over, revealing an Ace on the previous pile, much to his delight.

 _"No you won't,"_ Noah says. _"You don't have the balls to—oh fuck."_

Dimitri snorts.

Suffice to say, things get a little easier after that.

-

Noah becomes more and more breathless over the line as he starts to work himself open. For as insufferable as he can be at times, he really does make some unbearably _cute_ noises when he gets into it.

"You're getting quite good at this aren't you?" Dimitri offhandedly remarks.

_"Shut up. You should be grateful that I'm even - that I - hahh…"_

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't quite catch that."

 _"Fuck you!"_ he hisses. 

All bark and no bite. A wolf without its fangs.

_"Don't talk to me when I'm trying to do this, you're distracting me."_

"I don't remember this being a problem before. Are you afraid you're going to come from the sound of my voice?"

 _"As if,"_ he snipes _. "I just want to get this done and over with so I can - "_

 _Take my cock like the simpering little bitch you are?_ The Beast purrs. 

Dimitri's nostrils flare as the thought springs to mind. He grips his thigh with his free hand. The less sleep he's had, the more the beast inside bubbles to the surface. Especially around Noah.

"Get to the main event," he finishes for him. "I know, darling."

_"Yes, now be quiet and let me work."_

It shouldn't take Noah long to stretch himself, so Dimitri leaves him to it. It gives him the opportunity to relish in the adorable sound of his moans - and all those times he cries out, voice high and strung tight, because Noah is impatient and Dimitri _knows_ that when he tells him to keep his hands off his cock Noah touches it anyway.

He'd like to dig inside his head one day to figure out how he thinks. Maybe giving up control is as hard for Noah as it is for Dimitri.

"Are you ready for me yet?" he asks after a few more minutes, watching the cards flutter dramatically across his screen to signal his victory. He smiles to himself, pleased. 

_"Yeah, I think so,"_ Noah answers. _"I'm gonna put it in now."_

Dimitri hears the squelching of lube and can only imagine the mess he's making with it. His overzealousness is endearing.

_"Oh Saints... Fuck, it's so much."_

"Easy…. Easy darling, go slowly," he murmurs. 

_"Why does it feel so much bigger than it looks when it goes in?"_

"Because you're not used to it. Go slow."

_"I know I need to go slow! Stop telling me what I already know."_

"Noah."

_"What."_

" _Behave_. I'm trying to help you."

 _"You're_ **_patronizing_ ** _me. I can figure it out - I - a little more and - oh,"_ he says. 

The _oh_ comes out as little more than a gasp though.

"...what's wrong?"

 _"Nothing. I think I...got it. It's in."_ Then, softer, _"I completely forgot how this felt."_

Dimitri hums his approval.

"Good boy," he says, slipping back into character. "I knew you could take me. How does it feel?"

 _"Big,"_ he replies, breathing shakily. _"But this is nothing."_

"Mm. You've gotten so good at taking my fingers, I have every confidence that you can handle this too."

_"Your dick? Yeah, of course I can. How should we…"_

"I want you to look at me while you ride me," Dimitri decides. If Noah's wrist was sore last time, it might be best if he utilizes his hips instead. "Let me see your pretty face light up - just for me. Can you do that?"

_"Fine.Yeah, how do I - "_

"Brace yourself on my chest. Use your bed for support, hands out front."

_"So like this."_

"That's it… you're doing so well. I'll hold you so you don't fall. Move whenever you're ready."

 _"Wait, hold on, it slipped out, I'm going to - "_ there's a shuffle of movement, followed by wet sound and a muffled gasp. _"Okay, I'm ready now."_

When Noah starts to move, Dimitri switches card games to Hearts. But he has trouble focusing as he listens to him whimper quietly, breath coming out in short, quick pants.

Dimitri entertains the thought of what he might look like right now. The taut muscles of his stomach tensed, his arms trembling, hands fisted into his bedsheets as he sinks onto the toy, rolling his hips to grind against the blunt head of it. 

_The head of my cock_.

Yes, that's right. Grinding down on Dimitri's cock. 

He hasn't felt anything like that in a while. Didn't think he would miss it much, until now.

"That's it, sweetheart," he breathes. "You feel amazing. So hot and tight around me."

Noah's breath heaves in his ear, puffs of air that give him goosebumps whenever they end in a low whine. He can hear his bed squeaking in the background.

"You take me so well," he praises. "I love the way you look on top of me. Want to pull you down and kiss and bite that neck of yours. Or…" he chuckles, "your ears. You said they're sensitive, right?"

 _"Yeah,"_ Noah sighs. _"You can… leave marks,"_ he says, shyly. _"If you want."_

"Hm, maybe next time. Keep going for me, sweetheart. Just like that… but let's do a little something extra."

Noah's breath stutters, and underneath it is the slick sound of him jerking his cock. 

_Without permission?_ The Beast's lip curls in distaste. Dimitri ignores it.

 _"Like what?"_ Noah whispers.

"Keep it slow, but grind on me nice and hard."

 _"Hard…"_ he murmurs. _"Hard like- like - ah? ...Oh. O-ohhh…"_

Dimitri grins. Everything's better when Noah listens. 

He lets him get used to the new rhythm, directs him through a few more steps as he plays with his new toy. 

"Rotate your hips, tilt them forward more… yes that's it, that's it."

_"Hnn…"_

"It's good right?"

_"Yeah, yeah, but I want…"_

"Hm?" he belatedly realizes he's still playing the game and that it's his turn. He throws down another card.

 _"Want you to - ah, hah… Saints,"_ he slurs. _"I need to slow down or I'm gonna… !"_

"What do you need me to do, darling?"

 _"You're doing something else right now, aren't you? Like reading a book, or whatever?"_ he asks, somehow still coherent enough to make actual sentences.

"Of course I'm not." Dimitri throws his last card into the pile. No winning this time. He restarts the game. "I'm here with you."

 _"Bullshit,"_ Noah scoffs. _"I want you to… I want you to come this time,"_ he finally gets out.

Dimitri's finger slips on the trackpad and he plays the wrong card.

"What?"

_"What do you mean, 'what?' I said I want you to come, too. There's no way you're not - ah, shit - you don't get turned on by any of this."_

Dimitri frowns and looks down at his lap, subconsciously spreading his legs. He's not wrong, but Dimitri's used to ignoring the rare erections he gets while he takes these calls. It's nothing more than a side effect that occasionally comes with the territory. 

"This isn't about my pleasure," he dismisses. "It's about yours. What you want."

_"And if I want you to...ah… I want you to touch yourself? Then what?"_

Dimitri's hand hovers over his keyboard. He can't believe Noah's even considering the idea.

Thus far, it's always been about what _he_ wants, which is to be expected, so to hear this coming from him is honestly a shock.

He wets his lips. "That's what you want? Truly?"

_"Yes? I've only said it three times."_

Dimitri feels like he's at a crossroads. One path into familiar territory, the other into the unknown. Should he do it?

It wouldn't be… bad, he reasons. It makes his client happy and it releases some of his own tension. It's win-win, isn't it? Still, he can't shake the idea that choosing this path could set something else into motion.

He makes the snap decision to slip his hand beneath the waistband of his sleeping pants and wrap it around the pulsing heat of his half-hard cock.

 _"Alex?"_ Noah rasps, his voice raking Dimitri across the coals. He rarely, if ever, addresses Dimitri so directly.

"...yes love?"

_"Touch yourself. For me."_

"Ah… I am."

_"Good. You better be. You always get to hear me come, but I've never heard you, so I think it's only fair."_

Dimitri laughs, pulling his pants down past his hips and giving himself a few light strokes. "Is that what this is about? An eye for an eye?"

_"You're damn right it is."_

"You really are something else," he muses, more to himself than anything. "I suppose I can indulge you. But just this once." He tries to be as casual about it as he can. His heart is racing.

_"We'll see about that."_

"I don't make it a habit," he says. "Now where were we? I believe you were…"

_"Taking your dick like a champion? Yes, I was."_

*

"Darling, you know I love the way you look right now," Dimitri sighs, sliding his chair away from his desk so as not to make a mess of it by accident, when he starts getting into it, "but what I'd really like to do is flip you onto your stomach and mount you that way. Feel you properly underneath me. _"_

_"Mm…"_

"Slide into that tight heat of yours - " his hand slides up the shaft of his dick, wetting it with precome, " - like I was made to be there. It would feel absolutely _divine_ , don't you think?"

_"Yeah...."_

"Tell me," he murmurs. "Tell me you want it."

_"What, why?"_

"I want to hear you say it."

 _"Fine… I_ _want it."_

"Of course you do," Dimitri says, eye fluttering shut as he closes his fist around the head of his cock. He surprises himself with how badly _he_ wants this too - wants to feel the sensation of Noah's hole clenching him, drawing him in. 

It's not a great substitute for a warm body, and Dimitri has never been very good at bringing himself pleasure with just his hands, but he tries. His imagination drives him forward, to speed up his hand and pull at his dick to achieve the stimulation he's looking for. He sinks back into his chair with a groan, feeling it yield under the weight of his body.

It's been so long, he doesn't know how long he'll actually last. He tries to take his time, pulls back from the brink when he's getting too close, and continues to detail what else he'd like to do to Noah.

That is, until The Beast threatens to rear its ugly head again. 

It's insistent. It claws at Dimitri's throat, rattles from within the cage of his chest as Noah's pleasure grows. It smells it - wants it, _feeds_ on it. Aches to make him bleat and cry and beg and shove him to his knees and—

The urge to… let loose on Noah when he acts the way he does - pushy, obstinate, ready to fight at a moment's notice - is always a challenge to suppress. It requires a lot of his attention. Makes Dimitri tense and impatient.

But since Noah's never experienced The Beast properly, Dimitri doesn't want to risk scaring him away.

Except, as he gets lost in the sensations of it all, of indulging in such a shameless act as _masturbating to his own client_ , he can feel he's slipping, getting sloppy, and mindlessly forming words that have no place coming from The Prince.

"I want you to fuck yourself on my cock like you've never felt anything like it," he says before he realizes he's even speaking. "I want to hold you down by your neck as I watch you fall apart beneath me _."_

_"Yes... yes..."_

Noah doesn't notice at first, too preoccupied.

"I'll make you scream for me," he continues. "Make you cry. Leave my marks all over you so everyone can see them…"

_"Hnn..."_

"I'll ruin you for anyone else who dares put their hands on you," he growls. "Or dares to try to take what belongs to _me_. Starting with that boy toy you've been fucking behind my back."

Noah's breath hitches.

"... _what?"_

 _Shit,_ Dimitri curses.

 _"_ Nothing," he backpedals. "I'm so sorry, love, I seem to have lost myself for a moment there," he hurriedly explains. "Please excuse me, I didn't mean to say all those things to you—"

 _"Wait a second,"_ Noah says, ignoring Dimitri's babbling. _"Wait. You're him. You're him aren't you? The… the..."_

"I - yes," he says, still trying to do damage control, "and I apologize for stepping out of line like this. This isn't what you called me for and I—"

 _"No, no, don't stop. Don't you dare fucking stop,"_ he interrupts. _"Tell me. Tell me what else."_

Dimitri blinks, dick twitching in his hand and leaving a smear of fluid on his shirt.

Did he hear that correctly?

"...you want me to keep going?"

**_"What else, Alex?"_ **

Oh. So it wasn't his imagination.

_"Answer me….Goddess, just answer me, I'm so close."_

The Beast licks his lips. Noah's desperation is absolutely delicious. 

_If that's what he wants… give it to him,_ it insists.

"I'll... fuck you so hard you see stars," he starts, quickly finding his momentum again. He palms roughly at his cock, "Until you can't walk without feeling the imprint of my cock still inside you. I'll leave you limping so you remember who your master is, and you can't think of anyone else but me."

He's startled by the moan that escapes him - part pain, part ecstasy - he may as well be choking his dick, he's gripping it so tightly. It's good though. It's very good. How has he gone so long without this?

Noah answers with one of his own - loud, wanton, urgent - and it's like the dam breaks and there's no need to pretend. No need to exaggerate his pleasure as he rocks into his own hand, fondles himself, his toes curling and flexing against the hardwood flooring beneath his feet.

 _"Yours yes, yours,"_ Noah moans, nonsensically, rocking the bed violently by the sounds of it now. _"Want to feel it - feel you - fuck, fuck! I'm... I'm - !"_

He may as well be spouting gibberish at this point, for all his efforts at trying to speak are awarding him. It's exhilarating. Dimitri has never heard him this way.

He wants to see him: splayed out flat and writhing in the sheets below Dimitri, hair obscuring his face as fat, hot tears roll down his cheeks.

Would he dig his heels into Dimitri's back as he fucks him? Legs slung around his hips, drawing him closer while he gasps for air and fights against the bruising hold Dimitri has on his neck —

"I'll pull your hair, stuff you full of my come and plug you up with one of those toys you bought," he tells him. "Make you spend the whole day with it inside you. Like a filthy common whore."

 _"Oh fuck,"_ he gasps, _"you're depraved. That's disgusting."_

"Maybe. But you like it, don't you? Whore."

_"Fuck you. Don't call me tha - ah - ah!"_

_"'Don't call me that,'"_ The Beast mimics, high pitched and mocking. "I'll call you whatever I want _,"_ he snarls, _"because you're mine_. Maybe I'll even turn it on when you least expect it, too. Constantly remind you that it's there and— _ah."_

His orgasm hits when he least expects it. 

He strokes himself hard once, twice and next he knows he's shooting thick ropes of come onto his shirt and pants.

He barely hears it, over the roar of blood rushing through his ears, when Noah comes as well.

*

 _"This whole time…"_ Noah mumbles, as if in a daze. His voice is rough, like he's been screaming. 

Maybe he has been, and Dimitri is too out of it to remember.

_"The stupid menu options. I thought it was two different people but it's been you this whole time."_

He breathes it like an epiphany. A revelation.

 _He really didn't know_ , Dimitri realizes. He always assumed he did.

"That's...correct," he says, gingerly tucking his softened cock back into his pants. "It's right there in the ad."

 _"Oh. I didn't read it,"_ Noah admits. _"I copied your number into my phone and never looked at it again."_

Ah.

_"But thinking back… I see it now. Not just today, I mean every other time, too. Were you dropping hints for me?"_

Dimitri snorts. As if he'd be clever enough to do something like that on purpose.

"While I'm flattered you'd think so, I'm afraid that's not the case. I thought you already knew."

_"Oh. Well. I didn't."_

"I see that now. I… I sincerely hope it doesn't colour your perception of me," Dimitri says. "I understand if it turns you off, and promise to be more diligent about reigning myself in if it bothers you."

_"Wh- are you serious right now?"_

The words come out sharp. Annoyed. It gives Dimitri pause.

"...what?" he says, very eloquently.

 _"I said,"_ Noah says, enunciating like he's spitting the words at him, _"are you serious? Did anything that happened even remotely suggest that it bothered me?"_

"No..." Dimitri says, briefly taken aback. "I just assumed - "

" _Because it doesn't,"_ Noah cuts in. _"I would tell you if I didn't like it."_

 _Would you? Half the time you won't tell me when you_ **_do_ ** _like things._

Dimitri bites his tongue.

 _"So unless I tell you straight up that I don't like something, don't assume that I —"_ There's a weird sound in the background just then, interrupting Noah's strangely passionate spiel. _"Oh, what the fuck?"_

"Noah?"

Noah doesn't respond, but Dimitri does hear what sounds suspiciously like the thump of something hitting the floor, as well as distant swearing. 

He hangs on the line for another minute or so, confusion warring with concern. It's short-lived, however, when Noah picks up his phone again and says, 

_"Sorry. I have to go. Sylvain randomly showed up at my apartment blitzed out of his mind. Fucking idiot. Doesn't he know what time it is? This is literally the worst thing he could've done to me, what the fuck."_

"...I thought you said it wasn't that late?"

 _"Yeah, but that was an hour ago. Time's have changed. I've changed,"_ he says.

What?

 _"Saints, okay I really need to go, he's coming up here. I need clothes and to lock my door and— "_ Noah lets out a strangled noise of indignation that Dimitri's never heard from him before.

_"Momo, no! Don't touch that! That's not a toy! Ugh, fucking cats—I have to go. I can't let him see me like this. I'll call you later."_

He hangs up before Dimitri has the opportunity to wish him a good night.

Dimitri sighs and shakes his head. It's just as well. He needs to clean up.

He stands up on wobbly legs and strips off his soiled clothes, dumping them into a laundry basket. His face glows when he takes a good look at what he's done. 

Obviously he was aware he was doing it when he was...doing it. But it's one thing to acknowledge it when it's happening in the moment, and entirely another when you have time to reflect on what you've done.

But he shouldn't think about it too much. Even if he knows he's going to, because Dimitri is only a man, and for all of Noah's faults he has his own brand of awkward charm that Dimitri likes. It's only natural he would get a little worked up over him, right? Right.

But still. He… let himself go so much more than he thought he would. And even with Noah's insistence that he _enjoyed_ tonight, he worries that this revelation will change things between them.

He hopes it doesn't.


	8. beauty and --

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well  
> you know the rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said last chapter blew up, but this one *actually* did  
> CW: non-explicit claudelix, drinking, dirty talk, degradation

Felix's post-orgasm, euphoric mood is shattered the moment he hears the buzzer to his apartment go off.

The last thing Felix expects is for Sylvain to show up drunk off his ass like this, and after hanging up on Alex, he scrambles to clean himself off and throw on some clothes. His legs feel like jello by the time he makes his way to the door, and they almost collapse when Sylvain all but falls on him when he opens it.

His nose is immediately assaulted by the stench of alcohol wafting off Sylvain's breath and his clothes. He shoves him back and steadies him by the shoulders before Sylvain can flop back into the hallway. Saints, he smells so _bad._

"Sylvain, what the fuck?" he asks.

"Hiii Feeelix," Sylvain greets, grinning, eyes droopy and half-lidded. He mirrors Felix by grabbing him by the shoulders. Then he breathes into his face to the point that Felix almost chokes on it. "Y'mind if I come in? I gave my Uber the wrong address, hahah…."

Which is how Sylvain winds up on the floor _beside_ Felix's couch, rather than sitting on it. Well, more specifically, he's there because he claims the room is spinning too much and gravity - as if it were a real person - told him he should sit on the floor. 

So that's where he is. On the floor. Right by Felix's knees, because even if Sylvain won't sit on the couch, Felix will. He is currently relaying his woes to Felix about his night out with Dorothea. Citing a few key events including, but not limited to: the fight that broke out on the dance floor, Dorothea's run-in with a couple fucking in one of the washroom stalls, and Sylvain's unsuccessful attempts to schmooze the bartender into giving them free drinks - among other things. 

But his mood shifts considerably when the topic changes to a girl Sylvain had noticed at the bar who, from behind, he'd mistaken for Ingrid. A girl who was the reason why Sylvain was kicked out of the bar early in the first place.

"…so like, I went to greet her, you know? Gave her a hug, cracked a joke. Except it wasn't her and she slapped the shit out of me and dumped her drink on me."

"Uh huh."

"And y'know what I thought? As the bouncer is dragging me out, I thought, 'Wow this girl can't be Ingrid because her little baby hands barely hurt.' They were so soft. Not like Ingrid's hands because you know how Ingrid is tough as shit and forgets to use hand cream when her hands get dry and - and then I missed her. So much."

"You missed who, the girl at the bar?"

"No, no, no….I miss _her_. Ingrid. And I like her so much but, Ingrid, she..."

"Look at me. I'm this useless trust fund piece of shit who's never had to work for a damn thing in his life and she - she works _so_ hard. She works so hard for everything she does and like - what the fuck can I offer her, Felix?" He lays his head on Felix's knee then, his hair tickling where the edge of his sleep shorts meet his thigh. "What can I give her that she can't get on her own?"

Felix _would_ say he can't believe this is happening. That he's sitting on his couch, ass still wet with lube, with his best friend sobbing all over his lap.

He'd say he can't believe it's happening, but this isn't the first time Sylvain has done this, and - worse yet - it is far from the first time he's done this because of _Ingrid_. 

It's just not usually after Felix has… yeah.

Felix should be a better friend. He should show Sylvain some sympathy. Offer him some advice. But Sylvain's self-destructive habits are so numerous that no matter how Felix decides to deal with him, the result is always the same. So he doesn't offer up much of anything, feeling like a bad friend, but also knowing he can't give any advice worth listening to.

"Fuck if I know," he answers. He pats Sylvain's head awkwardly and pushes his own bangs away from his forehead and out of his eyes. "You have to figure that out on your own. Just like the rest of us."

Sylvain laughs weakly and looks up at Felix.

"You suck at this. You're supposed to make me feel better."

Yes, but how exactly is he supposed to do that when he can't even do it for himself? 

"If you wanted sympathy, maybe you should've gone to see someone else. Claude maybe," Felix tells him.

This time Sylvain's laughter is more genuine. "Claude? He'd tell me to smarten up and, I don't know, _talk_ to her."

"Obviously, because that's the _adult_ thing to do."

"Yeah, and I've never been an adult in my entire life," Sylvain snorts. "Why would I start now?"  
  


-

Once Sylvain has wept his feelings out and wiped snot all over his shirt, Felix brings him a blanket to burrito himself in and offers him a glass of water.

"Thanks for always putting up with me by the way," Sylvain says with a yawn, snuggling into the couch for the night.

"Uh huh," Felix says. "Somebody has to."

He's about to turn off the lamp beside the couch and wish Sylvain a goodnight when Sylvain grabs him by the wrist.

"Hey Felix."

"What?" He turns, fingers resting on the switch. Sylvain peeks out from under his blanket at him, his eyes soft with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Felix furrows his brows. "Yeah? I'm just tired. It's two a.m."

"No, I don't mean like… like right now. I mean in general, are you really okay? I know you don't exactly like to talk about feelings, but you'd tell me if something more serious was going on, right?"

Felix sighs at him. "What does that even mean? Is this about Annie again?"

"I dunno, is it? I know seeing her at Claude's party must've fucked you up. She told me you guys ran into each other. But I didn't wanna like, step on toes and ask you about it right away…" 

"It's…" his voice dies on his tongue. It takes him a moment to find it again. When was this, right after it happened? After the party? Does Sylvain still talk to her?

"No, it has nothing to do with Annie. Goodnight, Sylvain. I'll see you in the morning."

"Huh? Wait! Felix, wait —"

"I said _goodnight_ , Sylvain." 

He flicks off the light amidst Sylvain's protests and trudges back to his room. He curses himself for letting it slip that something _is_ on his mind. He only hopes Sylvain won't remember.

-

The first thing Felix does after he closes his door behind him and has some privacy, is grab his phone and hunt for Alex's ad to find out if he was lying about The Beast thing or not.

It takes him a while to find it, digging deep into his search history, but eventually he does.

He's not lying.

There's something printed under the awful photoshopped not-Alex with the greasy abs that he didn't notice before: a brief description that mentions Alex's duality in a 'two sides of the same coin' kind of way that _isn't_ in the automated menu.

He stares at the ad for a long time.

Huh.

 _Get you a man who can do both,_ Felix's inner Sylvain says.

While admittedly he'd like to, what he _really_ needs to do right now is shower, clean the lube out of his ass and go the fuck to bed. 

He heads to the bathroom, slowing as he passes a sleeping Sylvain on the way there.

Real Sylvain offers up no smartass remarks, and instead rolls onto his side with a snore and drools all over one of Felix's throw pillows. Which is pretty disgusting.

He stands beside the couch for a minute, just watching him. In sleep, Sylvain's expression approaches something close to peaceful. 

He's struck with an unexpected surge of melancholy when he looks at him, with the knowledge that Sylvain's concern is not misplaced.

Felix knows he hasn't been completely honest with his friends since Glenn died. Every day the reality of his situation eats at him a little bit more, but it's always been easier to run from it than have to confront it.

He thinks about what Alex told him, and his chest constricts.

_Heavy weights like these are easier to bear when you have someone else to give you a hand._

_Know that you're not alone, okay?_

Running. Running. He's always running.

 _I wish I could tell you everything,_ he thinks in the direction of Sylvain's sleeping face _, and that I'm not okay, because you'd probably understand. But I can't… I'm sorry, Sylvain._

He tucks the blanket tighter around Sylvain with a quiet sigh and keeps walking.

When he finally strips down and enters the shower, he pushes all thoughts of his own plight away and focuses on one, very important new piece of information instead:

Alex is The Beast.

So what does this mean for Felix?

As he scrubs himself clean, shuddering as his fingers ghost over sensitive skin, he thinks about all that pushing and pulling at Alex he did. The relentless pursuit of something _more_ that now has a name. Something that had been there all along, but he'd been too afraid to seek since that very first phone call. And now he wonders _why_.

_Why did I wait so long?_

He stays under the showerhead until the water runs cold, then methodically towels off and heads to bed. All the while wondering, _Why, why, why?_

He's out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

-

He and Sylvain don't talk about what happened Saturday. Life continues. He works, he boxes, he cuddles his cats and watches too many YouTube videos like he always does.

And every single night of the next week, Felix has vivid fantasies about The Beast. To the point where - as he cleans off his hand and removes the vibrator from his ass - he's starting to wonder if there's something seriously wrong with him. 

Even his friends comment on how spacey he is when they hang out. He's running out of excuses that aren't, "I'm tired," as to why he's missed half of what Ingrid is asking him, when they go for drinks with some friends one night.

They're playing pool at The Blue Lion, a local pub that's a bit of a dive, but has cheap drinks and decent enough food. The interior looks as though they tried for medieval tavern style (there's tapestry on the walls for Goddess' sake), but gave up halfway and turned it into a sport's bar instead. 

It gives the whole place a disjointed kind of medieval jock vibe. Felix appreciates the large sword and shield decals everywhere, but all the lions on the tapestries holding beer bottles is a bit much.

Ingrid and Felix are on one team, Sylvain and Dorothea are on the other. While Linhardt - who amazingly has _not_ dropped Sylvain like a bad habit - plays referee slash critiques their individual techniques slash keeps getting groped for 'good luck' by Sylvain. 

Not that Linhardt seems to mind. He's rather blaisé about the whole thing. Even slaps Sylvain's ass a couple of times as he bends over to take a shot, just to pester him.

Now, Felix prefers not to stick his nose in their business and ignores most of their blatant PDA, but he does notice how the girls have understandably _very_ different reactions to the pair. Dorothea just laughs and tells them to _save some for later,_ while Ingrid constantly makes faces like she smells something rank whenever they aren't looking at her.

Clearly Sylvain has not talked to her since he and Felix spoke last, and nothing between them has been resolved.

Halfway through a game, they have to pause because Sylvain needs to take a leak (a likely excuse, as he drags Linhardt away with him), and Dorothea seizes the opportunity to fetch them a new pitcher of beer from the bar, leaving Felix alone with Ingrid.

Felix is chalking the tip of his pool cue when Ingrid asks him, unprompted, "So what do _you_ think of them?"

He pauses for a second to look at her, noting the way she tightly grips her own stick and twists it in her hands. She's tense, despite the amount of alcohol she's consumed, staring in the direction Sylvain and Linhardt have gone. A crease marrs the space between her brows. 

"Who?" he says, putting down the chalk and taking a swig of his beer.

"Them. Sylvain and Linhardt."

Felix shrugs, leaning his hip against the pool table. "I dunno. They're okay. They've lasted longer than I thought they would."

"Yeah…" 

"I mean, this _is_ Sylvain we're talking about. I can't see it going anywhere."

"You think so?"

"Based on past experience? Absolutely not."

Ingrid relaxes somewhat. She lays her cue down on the table and grabs her own drink, thumbing at the handle, distracted. Felix watches her with narrowed eyes over the top of his glass.

"Why do you care, anyway?" he asks, but he's pretty sure he knows.

"I _don't_ ," she denies. "But I'm worried about Sylvain. I'm not sure if Linhardt is a good influence on him —"

Felix nearly spits out his drink. She thinks _Linhardt_ is the problem?

"I'm sorry, what," he says.

"He's too laid back to handle someone like Sylvain," she explains. "He enables a lot of his bad behaviour, and I - " She huffs. "I just know I'm going to be the one cleaning up the mess when this blows up in his face. I know it, and you know it because it's what I always do, and I'm _so_ tired of it." 

She angrily chugs her beer. She _sounds_ tired. Fed up, but also hurt. 

In a show of solidarity, he offers her the rest of his and says, "I know."

"He pisses me off so much, Felix," she says, taking it. "I can't do this for him forever. When is he going to grow up and start acting his age?"

 _When is he going to start appreciating all the things I do for him?_ is what Felix hears.

Ugh, they're so messy. They've been circling each other like this for years without knowing, and Felix refuses to intervene. He feels a headache pulse at his temples and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Probably never," he says.

Ingrid makes an exasperated noise. "Stupid Sylvain. I'm going to find Dorothea," she declares, and walks off, stumbling a little as she goes.

-

Ingrid leaves earlier than the rest of them, after growing increasingly more agitated by Linhardt's presence and Sylvain's continued fondling of said presence.

Sylvain gazes after her pathetically when she departs. All sad eyes and wobbly chin like he's about to burst into tears. 

Linhardt briefly meets Felix's eyes and shakes his head. Felix is unsure how to interpret this.

He then proceeds to join the game as Felix's partner, and with Linhardt's careful guidance they dominate the rest of the night, the losers paying for the next round of drinks.

"You guys are cheating," Sylvain says with a pout, as Felix pockets the eight ball, marking their fifth win in a row. "I don't know how, but you're definitely cheating."

"Remind me never to play against them again," Dorothea mutters, digging Sylvain's wallet out of his jeans. 

Linhardt inspects his nails in boredom, but there's a smirk playing at his mouth as he shoos them away. 

"Be a dear and ask for extra maraschino cherries this time for me, would you?" he says to Dorothea's retreating back. She flips him off over her shoulder as she walks away.

Felix decides then and there that he likes Linhardt, disgustingly saturated cocktails and all. 

Beneath his lethargy, Linhardt oozes sarcasm and is sharp as a whip, and Felix wonders how in the hell Sylvain ever convinced a Biochemistry grad student to date him. Which is precisely why he drunkenly pulls Linhardt aside as they're parting ways for the night to tell him that he can do a lot better than Sylvain.

To his surprise, Linhardt laughs and says, "I know. But I don't mind keeping him company until he tells her how he feels."

Linhardt then takes Felix's phone before he has a chance to respond and plugs in his contact information, just in case.

"In case of what?" Felix asks, staring at the smiling cat emoji Linhardt sends. 

"In case it happens earlier than I anticipate and you no longer see me hanging around." He smiles and follows Sylvain into their Uber, giving Felix a lazy wave of his hand. "Ciao."

The fact that Linhardt knows Sylvain is using him like he uses almost everyone else, and appears to be okay with it, is incredibly frustrating.

It's not until Felix arrives home himself that he realizes, in a way, Linhardt's situation is a lot like his.

But with one glaring exception:

Felix is not the Linhardt of his situation.

Felix is Sylvain.

-

Goddess, maybe he shouldn't be here.

Felix thinks he's made a mistake coming to Claude's apartment. It's not his first time here so it's not nerves, but something about tonight feels different. He's antsy. 

On edge. 

If Claude notices him fidgeting when he opens the door, he doesn't comment on it. All he does is greet him with a smile and lets him in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before offering him a drink. 

Felix watches him fill two stemless glasses with red wine and half-listens to him chatter about his day. He quietly wonders what Claude thinks of him. Why he insists on having Felix over, despite their arrangements only resulting in some heavy makeouts and _maybe_ some dry humping if Felix feels up to it. They're not doing a very good job with this... casual hookup thing.

Does he _like_ Felix?

It's hard to get a good read on Claude when his words and actions sound and feel sincere, but his attention otherwise feels... displaced when they don't have their hands all over each other. Unfortunately - or perhaps _fortunately_ \- he's not given much time to ruminate on it further before he's being handed the glass and gently ushered into Claude's room. 

\- 

The fantasy series they're currently watching (Claude's idea) is bad.

It has more plot holes than a backwater road, some of the blandest characters imaginable, and time-travel elements so contrived that Felix thinks it is truly a miracle the show ever made it to production. And yet neither of them can muster up the strength to change it to something else.

"What do you think so far?" Felix asks, silently judging the fight scene playing out on screen. They couldn't have hired a professional choreographer to do it. It's awful. 

He shifts on the bed, trying to get more comfortable.

"Most of the characters aren't bad," Claude answers, tossing popcorn into his mouth. "Sure they're pretty tropey, but at least it's in an entertaining kind of way."

"I guess," Felix grunts, shoving his feet under Claude's legs to warm them up. "Damien's right-hand could stand to be knocked down a peg or two, if you ask me. I hate that guy."

"I dunno, I kind of like him, actually. He reminds me of you," Claude says with a wink.

"Excuse me? I am _nothing_ like him."

"You don't think so?"

"No. He's an asshole."

"A _devoted_ asshole," Claude points out.

Felix glares at him. 

"He's going to turn traitor and defect from the Kingdom. You just watch."

Claude flashes his teeth and leans closer to him. The look in his eyes spells out trouble.

"And I say he stays. Care to make a wager?" he asks.

Felix frowns. "That depends," he says. "What do I get if I win?"

"Well…" Claude gives him a slow once over, sliding an idle hand up his thigh. Felix resists his initial knee-jerk reaction to slap it away. Ever since his last call with Alex, he's noticed that he's become increasingly sensitive to Claude's advances. And not always for the better.

Which he doesn't like to think about for too long if he can help it, because it's not like Claude _isn't_ attractive to him. The opposite, really. Objectively he's hot - _really hot_ \- but it just hasn't been enough for Felix to consider properly fucking him. If that makes sense.

(It makes sense to Felix.)

But if it distracts him from thoughts of The Beast for once, he might be willing to try _something_ else tonight.

"I think you know," Claude says, cryptically.

Felix raises an eyebrow. "And if you win?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I'll come up with something."

-

Felix is wrong about Prince Damien's right-hand. 

He sticks to his guns and re-pledges his loyalty to his future king in a spectacular show of homoeroticism that might have moved Felix, had he been watching it unfold under normal circumstances. But since he has not, he is instead trying to play it cool when Claude comes to claim his prize sooner than expected.

He really should have known that, even if he _had_ won, victory still would have been Claude's.

As Claude kisses him, he decides that hooking up with him is a lot like eating a hamburger when what Felix really wants is a pizza. It sates some of his hunger, but there's a hollow sensation in his gut that persists when all is said and done. A craving that won't go away.

Everything feels slightly off when Claude pulls Felix into his lap, in a way it hasn't before. His head is full of thoughts about how The Beast would be rough with him, would bite hard enough to draw blood and bruise his neck. Would grab him by his hair and _pull._ None of which Claude does.

It doesn't quite feel _right_ , and at one point, it actually becomes extremely awkward when Felix catches himself mumbling, "Give me The Beast," under his breath in the middle of pulling Claude's pants off, and he has to bullshit his way out of it by telling Claude, "I'm talking about your dick," like a fucking idiot.

He stays over, but lies awake and plays on his phone for a few hours. He pulls up his contact list every once and a while to stare at Alex's number, then thinks better of it and closes it, only to reopen it again a few minutes later.

"I don't have a problem," he states resolutely to his reflection in the bathroom mirror the next morning. 

Claude's face pops up behind him and he nearly has a heart attack.

"You good, kitty cat?"

Felix's eye twitches at the nickname. He's never liked it, but it's a lot more grating than usual today. Nonetheless, he brushes it off.

"I'm fine," he says. "Where are your extra toothbrushes?"

-

It occurs to Felix, as he's scooping a clump of cat shit a few days later, that maybe he does have a problem. He's experiencing withdrawal because it's been almost two weeks since he's called Alex. 

Life, and his last credit card bill (Alex is more expensive in bulk as it turns out) have made him temporarily hit pause on his… habit. But it doesn't stop him from wanting. If anything, he just wants it _more._

"Am I a sex addict?" he asks, staring into a heap of cat litter. One of his cats appears by his elbow, sniffing the edge of the litter box out of curiosity, her tail brushing up against his arm. 

He turns to her instead. "Momo," he says, very serious, "answer honestly, am I sex addict?"

Momo blinks her green eyes back at him and headbutts his elbow. 

"Fuck," he groans. Even his cat thinks he has a problem. 

"There's no way," he tells her, firmly. "No way. There are people out there with real addictions. This is… this is something else."

Something unnamed. 

A distraction. 

A hyperfixation?

…does he _miss_ Alex?

…

Ugh, no.

No.

 _No_.

He _refuses_ to entertain that line of thought.

He gathers up the bag of cat refuse and brings it into his kitchenette to toss into the garbage. Momo follows him, and Charlie comes to investigate soon after, the _tick-tick-tick_ of his back claws on the tiles sounding his arrival. Felix looks down at two sets of eyes peering back at him with interest, as he closes the lid on the garbage.

"May I help you?" he asks. Charlie chirps in reply and rubs his entire body against Felix's leg in a way that signifies it's food time.

He looks at the clock on the stove and says, "Yeah, you're right. I didn't even realize what time it was, I gotta pick up Leonie in an hour."

-

Felix gets his ass handed to him at practice by Byleth no less than three consecutive bouts.

"You're distracted," comes Byleth's monotone voice when he helps Felix up from the mat.

"No I'm not," Felix snaps. If Felix has to hear one more person comment on it, he's actually going to lose his mind. "Let's go. One more round. I'll best you this time."

He doesn't.

His frustration only grows worse.

-

Felix finally cracks once the weekend hits. 

After weeks of staying away, and rubbing his dick raw even as his fantasies start to lose their lustre, he crumbles. His hands shake as he takes his phone (fully charged) and his toys and sets them on his bed.

Then he paces around his room like a mad man. Heart in his throat, stomach a ball of anxiety, neurons firing on all cylinders.

Feeling like a fucking _fool_ because…

Why, exactly?

Because he's finally giving in?

Because he's terrified he's going to back out at the last minute?

Because all of the sudden he's _shy?_ That can't be right.

 _But you want it don't you, Felix?_ he adlibs The Beast, staring at his set of ceremonial swords hanging on the wall above his bed. _You were made to be fucked by me. It's all you can think about isn't it?_

His dick twitches.

_Shut the fuck up, what do you know, anyway?_

_I'm in your head,_ it whispers _. I know everything. Your every thought, every desire. There's nothing you can hide from me._

This is fucking ridiculous. 

He throws his hands up in frustration and swipes his phone off the bed, breathing hard as he dials the number he's called more than half a dozen times by now.

He taps his foot impatiently, frenetically, as he waits, willing it to dial faster. He wishes he could skip the payment, skip the menu, just skip to—

_"...The Beast, hit that pound key instead. I promise you won't be disappointed."_

Felix's eyes widen. He hears nothing over the pounding of his heart. Feels his pulse in every niche of his body. Has never felt so ubiquitously in tune with every facet of his being like he does in this moment.

And he thinks he must be going out of his fucking mind if he's using words like _ubiquitous_ to describe the magnitude to which he is overreacting to a phone call.

_Press pound._

_Press the pound key, Felix._

_Press it._

_Do it._

_Press the fucking key, Felix. What are you waiting for, Prince Charming to crawl out of the phone and do it for you?_

His hands shake.

 _Come to me,_ The Beast calls to him.

And Felix, powerless to resist, does.

-

_"Two weeks, Noah,"_ The Beast snarls as soon as he answers. 

He's so used to The Prince's gentle greeting that the shock of it punches the breath from his lungs. His hand curls tightly around his phone, squeezing it.

_"It took you two weeks to finally remember me."_

But what unsettles him more than the deep timbre of his voice is that The Beast has kept track of how long it's been since Felix called at all. 

"I didn't forget. Life happened. Bills happened," Felix fumbles out, trying to regain his footing. "Circumstances out of my control happened. Not everything is about you, okay." 

_"And yet here you are, back again and hungry for more,"_ he hums. _"Face it, it's always been about me. The reason why you spent all that time pestering your Prince is because what you really wanted was me, wasn't it?"_

"Look," he huffs, "up until a couple weeks ago I didn't even know _what_ you were, so why would I do that? Don't give yourself so much credit."

 _"Because you're a coward,"_ he says.

"Excuse me?"

_"You're a coward. Do you not remember what happened when we first met? You hung up on me. You were terrified of me."_

Felix fidgets in place. He remembers dropping his phone, yeah. He's surprised Alex does though.

"There's a difference between being scared and being… _surprised_ by something," he argues. "I wasn't scared, but I also wasn't expecting you to, I don't know, _pounce_ on me right away. This time's different. I know how to - I can handle you. Like I did last time."

 _"'Handle me,'"_ The Beast echoes coolly, but with a hint of amusement. _"What you experienced was a taste. An appetizer. Your Prince has been lenient with you, but you'll find I'm not like him. I'll make you work for it."_

"Tch, that's nothing new," Felix mutters. "I'm always doing the work, you can't intimidate me with that. Is that the best you've got?"

The Beast chuckles. It brings heat to Felix's cheeks. Through his headphones he sounds _so_ close.

 _"Of course not. But we'll get to that. First there are certain...rules I have to tell you. Not that I suspect you will follow any of them,"_ he scoffs _," but I suggest you listen very carefully anyway_."

"Rules?" Felix says. The hell does that mean…? "You didn't care about rules last time. You just— "

 _"Fucked you, yes. In the heat of the moment, one must adapt to circumstances as they present themselves. But normally there are rules in my domain,"_ he says. _"Now be silent, and listen."_

As Felix gets comfortable (routine by now, he doesn't even have to think about it) The Beast details a brief set of rules before they get started. Only half of which Felix pays any attention to, as he's too busy listening to the languid, bored way The Beast goes over each one. As if it's mere formality and not something he's particularly interested in.

 _Newcomer stuff_ , Felix thinks. It's like signing an insurance waiver before a massage. 

But he can relate, he's impatient to get started, too. There are limits to what The Beast can do to him over the phone, after all, it's not as if he would be in any real danger if he could avoid it. 

He finishes with, _"Or if you find yourself unable to speak for any reason and you need to stop, tap any number on the keypad twice. Do you understand?"_

"Yeah."

_"Good, because I won't be repeating myself. I've no patience for anyone who wastes my time, much less someone like you."_

Felix glares in the direction of his phone. "Fuck you."

 _"Behave, and I will,"_ he says. Felix feels his cock throb.

"And if I don't?" Felix can't help but ask, poking a sleeping bear. "It's not like you can _actually_ make me do anything."

His heart beats erratically in his chest. The rush he feels is so similar to the one he used to get every time he stepped into the ring to fight. Part of him thinks he should be a little worried he's approaching sex like a fight, but —

 _"I can make you do whatever I like."_

He's asking for it. It may as well be.

"You don't scare me," Felix says. "You can't intimidate me into—"

 _"Shut up, and take off your clothes,"_ he brusquely interrupts _. "Save your useless posturing for someone who cares. The only thing I care about is the pleasure that this will bring_ **_me_** _."_

Felix squirms, snapping his mouth shut as heat rushes to his face.

He grinds his dick against his palm through his pants, resisting the temptation to rip them off altogether. His mouth waters at the implication of being used. It feels so profane. 

_What is wrong with me?_

"Selfish prick," he says, as he drops his hand and complies, stripping off his clothes. 

_"What was that?"_

"Oh nothing, Your Beastliness." He breathes out a sigh of relief as his dick is freed, tossing his shirt, pants and underwear into a heap on the floor. "Just thinking about how _accommodating_ you are, that's all. You must be a hit with all your clients."

 _"Hmm..."_ is all The Beast replies. Felix runs a hand over his hips and between his thighs to wrap loosely around his cock _. "I think we should find a better use for that mouth of yours if you insist on being smart with me."_

"I'm not putting it near your dick," Felix says. Except he would. In a heartbeat.

 _"You will,"_ he purrs, _"We'll get you ready for me with my fingers first. Open your mouth."_

Subconsciously, Felix does it. His fingertips settle on his lower lip, when a thought pops into his head that gives him pause.

"Did you wash your hands?" Felix asks.

_"What?"_

"Your hands," he repeats. "Did you wash them? I'm not letting a brute like you stick his fingers in my mouth without washing them beforehand."

The Beast sniffs derisively at him.

 _"Do you really think you're in a position to make demands of me?"_ he says. _"Open your mouth."_

Felix stands his ground, gently grazing his fingertips with his teeth.

"No."

 _"Noah,"_ he growls.

"I'm not doing it until you wash your hands."

_"And I'm not asking for your permission. Open. Your. Mouth."_

Felix considers his options. He's curious how far he can push _him_ , too.

"No," he decides, holding strong.

 _"Ah,"_ he says calmly, like he's come to some understanding _. "That's how you're going to be, is it? Well then."_

The line goes quiet.

Then several seconds later, it disconnects altogether.

Felix stops rubbing circles over the head of his cock and stares at his phone in disbelief.

"What?"

This is _not_ how he pictured his night was going to go.

He calls back, stroking his cock slowly in irritation. 

"Um, excuse me, what the fuck was that?" Felix asks when the line connects again. He is met with dark laughter that raises goosebumps up his arms and back of his neck.

_"Are you ready to listen now?"_

"That depends, are you ready to wash your hands?" Felix bites back.

_"Hm, I guess not."_

He hangs up a _second_ time.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

When Felix calls back _a third time,_ he's livid. If he has to hear that stupid menu one more fucking time—

The phone keeps ringing.

And ringing.

 _And_ _ringing._

When The Beast _finally_ picks up, Felix is ready to throw his phone at a wall.

"Listen, asshole," he spits at him, "I'm _paying_ you. Don't try that shit on me again, or I'm _never_ calling back."

 _"I'll listen if you listen,"_ The Beast replies, nonplussed. He's so calm it pisses Felix off even more. _"It's a very simple task."_

"It's a _stupid_ task. Why should I - "

_"Because I'm ordering you to. If you can't be bothered to listen, I can't be bothered to continue this call. Now stop asking questions and open your fucking mouth."_

"Tch... I can't believe this," Felix mutters. He stares at his fingers, then slowly brings them towards his mouth. He licks them once, experimentally. They taste like… well, skin. He's not sure what he was expecting.

 _"Insufferable ingrate,"_ he hears.

"Go fuck yourself," Felix says around his fingers. "You _wish_ you could have a piece of this."

_"Quiet."_

"Oh no, what are you going to do if I'm not? Shove your dick in my mouth? Fuck me so I can't talk?"

_That doesn't sound too bad, actually._

Felix wonders what _Alex_ plans to do tonight - if he will touch himself again. He doesn't hear anything yet; no rustling of fabric, no zippers coming undone, not even a hitch in his breath, and tries not to feel too disappointed. There's still time. After all, it's not like Felix has done anything particularly, uh, _sexy_ yet.

He curls his tongue around his fingers and sucks on them, eyes closed, while his hand continues to work his cock to full hardness.

 _"They both have their own appeal,"_ The Beast muses. _"Though you do seem like the type to like sucking cock."_

Felix has no idea if he does or not. But he's not about to admit that.

"Hah, if it's anyone else's but _your_ tiny dick," he says.

_"Tiny. My, this is a far cry from you begging for me last time. I liked you better then… you were so much more compliant. Receptive. Easy."_

"Yeah well - "

_"You mock me for my size, but do you want to know what I think?"_

"Not really, but I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway," he says, idly sliding his fingers in and out from between his lips.

_"I think you're afraid you won't be able to take it all."_

_"_ You think I - " Felix makes a face, pulling out his fingers, offended. "Excuse me? Uh, no. I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I could deepthroat your stupid dick if I tried."

 _"You sound pretty confident,"_ he remarks. _"I suppose we don't need to warm you up first after all. Grab your toy - I know you have it nearby. We'll use that instead."_

"Use it for…?"

_"Let's see how well you do in pleasuring me."_

Ah. Wait. Okay, he sees where this is going.

"Fine," he sneers, and does.

#

Goddess, Felix feels ridiculous.

He already hates that he rises to the bait and gives in so easily, but he hates more that The Beast can pluck his strings with little effort. Like the old beat up guitar Sylvain used to play back in highschool to try to impress girls with.

Yes he will push, yes he will pull like he did with Alex, with _The Prince_ , but he's not expecting The Beast to make any concessions for him. He's already made it abundantly clear that he _will_ leave Felix high and dry if he wants to. 

(Of course, that doesn't mean Felix won't go down without a fight, as not even the threat of blue balls could stop a Fraldarius.)

With one hand holding his dildo, he stares down at the top of it with a frown. The Beast doesn't offer him any further instructions beyond _, "Suck,"_ when they get started, as if he is sitting down and spreading his legs before Felix, waiting for Felix to serve him.

Perhaps in this fantasy, he is.

 _"Well?"_ he prompts _. "Get on with it."_

Felix gives it a tentative lick up the shaft, trying to emulate what he's seen countless times in porn - and several times in his own experience. He follows the artificial veins along the sides of it, drags the flat of his tongue over the head. He's glad his mirror is on the far side of the room where he can't possibly see himself because he can't imagine he looks like anything but an idiot.

But by the Goddess, he's still determined to show The Beast what for, even if it's over a phone. Mainly out of spite and fueled by rage and hormones.

He may not be able to see it _,_ but he can _hear_ it, and that's what Felix is counting on.

He closes his lips around the toy, experimentally pumping the first few inches of it in and out of his mouth, making sure it sounds nice and wet for The Beast. He breathes through his nose and tries not to gag when it touches the skin of his soft palate.

_"There you go, that's it."_

He gets into it the longer he continues, not at all sure what he's doing, but based on The Beast's reaction, thinks that he must be doing _something_ right.

He pulls out the toy with a short gasp, letting his jaw briefly rest while he tongues at the tip, almost mindlessly.

 _"Look at you, being good for me,"_ The Beast says. _"All you needed was this, huh?"_

Needed? Maybe.

Wanted? Definitely. 

He whimpers quietly in response.

_"Keep going, Noah. You're not done yet. Taste all of it."_

Saints, he _wishes he could._ The toy itself tastes like nothing but silicone, but he can imagine what it might feel like to have the real thing sitting hot and heavy on his tongue. The musk of it, the bitter, salty taste of it.

 _"Yes, good, good,"_ he continues to rumble and—

Ah.

There it is. The slick sound of him touching himself. Just like Felix wanted.

Felix's lips curl into a smirk of victory and he moans when he hears it, pleasure pulsing through his body in response. There's something inexplicably sexy about reducing the brute to his base instincts. That he wants to get off on this just as much as Felix does. 

_"Take all of it… you want me to fuck you, don't you?"_

Felix doesn't respond, but he does thrust the toy deeper in his mouth, threatening to fuck it into his throat - getting closer each time. Making stifled whines and sloppy, embarrassing, wet slurping noises.

He can practically hear The Beast grinning through the phone. _"You want me to drive my cock deep into your throat until you choke. Make you swallow down my come,"_ he says _. "Or maybe I come all over your pretty face instead. Would you prefer that?"_

Felix groans, removing the toy to speak. "Not yet," he rasps, barely aware of what he's saying. "Fuck me first, you brute. Then you can - do whatever you want. Come wherever you want."

 _"Wherever I want."_ He laughs. _"Oh, I plan to. Suck harder."_

Felix obeys. His jaw aches, and his eyes burn when he shoves the toy back a touch too roughly. The fingers of his free hand twist in his hole as he does - preparing himself for later. 

He curls three fingers and _pushes,_ inhaling sharply around the toy in his mouth.

He gags on it for real, pulling it out with a sputter and coughing. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes as he tries to catch his breath, and humiliation burns through him as The Beast does nothing but _laugh more._

_"Poor poor thing… is it too much for you after all?"_

"Fuck!" he says, still coughing. "Fuck...Ugh… shut up. Shut your stupid mouth."

 _It's not that big,_ _I should be able to take it._

"It's not," he insists, voice cracking, broken and hoarse.

He takes a deep breath and sucks it down again with a moan once he's recovered. Sounding debauched and desperate to his own ears. 

This time he remembers to breathe when the toy reaches the back of his throat. This… 

Saints, if he could get his mouth on a _real_ dick, he could be a pro at this. Bring a man to his knees.

 _"I wish you could see how pretty you look like this,"_ The Beast sneers. _"Kneeling before me, your lips wrapped around my cock. Is this everything you imagined? Everything you wanted when you called upon me instead of your Prince?"_

He wants to tell him again to shut up, but all he can muster up is a moan in response.

 _"He spoils you more than filth like you deserves," The_ Beast says, a touch out of breath. _"But I'm here to remind you that you're nothing but a whore. Made to serve me, and_ **_only_ ** _me."_

"I'm not… a whore," he slurs, hips jerking as he brushes over his sweet spot. Precome drips from his cock, onto his sheets.

Goddess's sake, he forgot a towel _again_.

 _"You're right. You're not_ **_a_ ** _whore_ ," he agrees, thoughtfully. _"You're_ **_my_ ** _whore."_

"Not… not yours either - _Oh Saints_." He drops the toy and squeezes his thighs around his wrist, spikes of pleasure making his toes curl. 

_"Are you touching yourself?"_

"Yeah, I'm hah… m'getting… getting myself ready."

A heavy pause follows his words. The only sound is of Felix's ragged breathing.

 _"...Did I say you could do that?_ " he whispers.

Low.

 _Threatening_.

Felix tenses.

"No," he says slowly, "but I doubt _you_ were going to do it for me. You'd just shove it in there like - like - "

 _"And you say you're not my whore,"_ he snorts. 

When Felix realizes he's not about the fly off the handle like he thought he would, he relaxes. 

_"Exactly how desperate are you to get fucked?"_

_This hardly counts as fucking_ , Felix thinks.

He's never… Sothis, he wants to experience what it's really like doesn't he? His toys are good, being fucked by Annie was also good _,_ but being fucked by someone like The Beast sounds...

He listens to The Beast breathe. Heavy, laboured. Jerking himself off to _Felix_. He wouldn't be tender and sweet and a little shy like Annie was. He would be brutal with Felix. Turn him inside out and leave him an aching, sobbing mess.

He wants that. He wants to touch that dick for himself. Feel the curve of it in his palm. Taste it on his lips. Slide it home between his legs and—

"I want it," he chokes out to his empty room. 

The Beast makes an inquisitive sound. _"Hm, what was that?"_

"I said I want it. Fuck me."

 _"Ah,"_ he says _. "I didn't hear you say please."_

Felix grits his teeth _._

"Please," he bites out. 

_"Please what?"_

"Fuck me."

 _"Oh... Good boy,"_ he praises. _"Maybe there is hope for you yet."_

"I'm not some pet for you to _train,"_ Felix hisses. But he is, unfortunately, amenable to having his ego stroked. He considers it to be one of his greatest flaws. "Don't mistake this for _obedience._ I'm only doing this because I - _ah_ \- I want —" Ugh, Goddess, he's so hard. His balls ache. "Want to come."

 _"What a coincidence,"_ The Beast says, irritatingly nonchalant. _"So do I."_

"Well, good. Then we have a _mmmn_... mutual understanding." He rolls onto his side and grabs the toy again, coating it with lubricant. 

_"We do,"_ he says. _"Get on your knees."_

_Oh thank the Goddess._

Felix breathes out once, twice, rubbing the head of the toy against his rim. A facsimile of his fantasies.

"You even fuck like an animal," he groans, the grooves of the dildo rubbing deliciously against his insides as he carefully slides it in. Once situated, he gets on his hands and knees, reaching between his legs to hold onto the base of it.

He's getting quite good at pleasuring himself these days. He pulls it out slowly before pushing it back in deep, just the way he likes it. 

_"An animal, yes… so I've been told. But is that not what we all are in the end? When you strip us down until we are bare, when you take away our human skins and social niceties, what else are we left to be but animals?"_

Felix shuts his eyes. Bites into his lip.

_"Be honest with me, and with yourself. That's what you want. You don't want slow. You don't want tender. You want to be fucked raw. Fast, and rough. The way your Prince won't dare."_

The Beast lets loose a moan of his own.

_"The way your boy won't either. The way I do."_

"My… boy?" Felix's breath shakes, his thighs quake as the toy pushes up against his prostate. "Are you talking about Claude again?" Felix makes a sound that might be a laugh. "We don't - Goddess, he's never - "

_"Don't lie to me."_

He feels a surge of irritation at the accusation.

"I'm not lying, asshole. He's never - _shit_ \- he's never fucked me like this. The only thing that comes near my ass is - "

 _"Me?"_ The Beast glowers. 

"I was going to say _me_ , but sure, you possessive fuck. Just you, just - _hnn…_ "

_"Good… I'm the only one that can satisfy you, and the sooner you acknowledge that, the better."_

"Hmph. Those are some bold claims coming from y—"

 _"Be **silent** ,"_ he orders.

It's amazing how effective it is. Felix quiets almost immediately.

 _"The only sounds I want to hear from you are the ones you make while I fuck you, unless I explicitly tell you otherwise."_ Felix pictures him sitting there, leisurely stroking his cock, eyes going hazy and vacant with pleasure. _"Do you understand me, Noah?"_

He doesn't say anything.

The Beast grunts impatiently.

"...oh, are you expecting me to answer?" Felix mutters. " I thought you said I wasn't allowed to—"

_"Do you understand me? Yes or no."_

"...yes."

 _"Good,"_ he says. 

#

_"Goddess, you're tight for a whore aren't you? The number of times you've been fucked I'd have expected you to be looser than this."_

Felix finds a pace that suits him best, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the forearm he has braced against his bed as he fucks the toy. He feels hot all over, and almost regrets not leaving his hair up while he does this.

 _"Or maybe…."_ The Beast grunts, hissing at something Felix can't see, _"your little toys don't compare to the real thing."_

Felix moans, fucking himself harder, panting into his sheets. With every thrust of the toy he makes small keens of pleasure, ass tightening and loosening around the crown as he pulls it out.

 _"Tell me Noah,"_ he says. " _Do you think about me when you're alone at night?"_

Felix does little but offer a gasp in response, which The Beast takes as an affirmative, sounding smug when he replies, _"That's what I thought."_

"Shut...shut up," he says, white-knuckling the bedsheets.

 _"Tell me - "_ another grunt, well timed, as Felix hits his prostate hard enough to make him _yelp. "Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself."_

The order makes him fumble the toy.

"...you can't be serious. I'm not… answering that."

_"You'll do it if you want to come."_

Ugh, dammit. 

"Asshole…"

_"I'm waiting, Noah."_

_And you deserve to wait a lot longer. Maybe even forever._

"I… you." Good fucking Goddess. "It's always you. You're in my head, and you won't...leave. I don't know why, but you won't fucking leave no matter what I do and I—" he moans, biting into the meat of his forearm.

 _"_ ** _What_ ** _do you think about."_

"Your hands," he admits. "Your hands on my - _fuck -_ on my hips, in my hair, around my neck, grabbing my ass…"

 _"Mm… what else?"_ Felix isn't sure, but he thinks he's stroking himself faster.

"Your cock." His face is on fire. He can't fucking do this, what the _fuck._ "In my - I - I can't do this. I can't do this, don't make me—"

_"What. Else."_

He wants to _die_. This isn't his job, he can't just say this shit like it's not a big deal, like it's not something deeply personal and, quite frankly, embarrassing. Coupled with the fact that he can't even express himself well under normal circumstances, this is a fucking nightmare.

He shakes his head, knowing The Beast can't see him, moaning, "I can't. _I can't_."

 _"Noah."_ A warning, and does his cock ever love it.

"Ugh, you're such a piece of shit," he says. It's a lot less menacing than he wants. Diluted by arousal. Desire. "In my… like before, in my mouth. Or - or fucking me just like this."

He imagines hands grabbing his hips to snap him back against a cock that feels like it's splitting him in two, hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises in their wake. Getting fucked from behind on his bed, clinging to the headboard for dear life. Or on the couch, the kitchen counter, and over every single piece of furniture Felix owns until there's nothing left for them in his apartment to defile.

He thinks about long fingers tangled in his hair, curled around his cock, knuckles buried deep in his ass and bringing him pleasure so blinding he can't see, can't wait, can't —

Oh Saints, and his _tongue_. A hot mouth around Felix's dick, sucking at the head, strong hands gripping the shaft of it. Wrapping his legs around a faceless man's shoulders as he eats Felix out and —

 _"You've quite the vivid imagination,"_ The Beast comments, and Felix is confused, until it dawns on him that he's spoken all of this out loud.

He feels like he'd be ready to expire on the spot if he wasn't so close to blowing his load already.

"I just... _hah…_ I have a lot of thoughts. I feel like you're… you're also into tying people up. Blindfolding them, slapping them around. Choking them."

_"Do you think about me tying you up and gagging you when I fuck you?"_

"I ah… maybe, maybe," he groans.

 _"Next time,"_ he says, and it sounds like a promise. _"Next time. I don't think you're going to last much longer are you? Do you want to come?"_

"Yeah…"

_"Right now?"_

"Please."

 _"Fine. You can touch yourself. Or_ ," he says, " _do you think you can come from my cock alone?"_

"I don't...know."

_"Let's find out."_

_...Challenge accepted._

Felix is no stranger to the ins and outs of his body. He knows where to touch for maximum pleasure. How to tease himself. What type of fantasies really get him going. But what he's never tried to do is _not_ touch his dick when he does it.

He's not even sure it's possible for him.

His hand moves gracelessly, lacking its usual finesse as he brings himself closer to orgasm. Thighs locking up as he thrusts his hips against the toy as it enters him. 

He's conscious of his cries, conscious of the saliva dripping down his arm the more he tries to keep quiet and _feel_ what he's doing. Fueled by instinct, and encouraged by The Beast taking equal pleasure in their activities, Felix lets him know _exactly_ how much he's enjoying himself.

"Want this," he babbles unintelligibly. "Want this. Want you. Feels good, feels so - _so_ good." 

The drag of it, the pull on his poor, abused rim. It's a lot, but it's also everything he wants in this moment. His cock bobs between his legs as his back arches, ass high in the air. Full. Neglected. _Sore_ even.

He looks pathetic and ridiculous _but he doesn't fucking care._

 _"Yes,"_ trills The Beast. _"Yes, yes, yes. Saints, what I… wouldn't - wouldn't do to you, Noah."_ His voice is breaking - is more of a growl than actual words. He must be close, too. _"What I wouldn't do to… keep you just like this. Fuck you again and again until I've had my fill of you."_

"Again… again," Felix mumbles. It coils in his belly, waves of pleasure beginning to crest. His movements around the toy become even more erratic.

Almost... _almost_.

His hips spasm and then,

"Oh f—"

His orgasm is white hot like lightning when it strikes.

Felix's entire body locks up, then shudders when he comes, open mouthed and unable to properly form words or sounds. Aftershocks roll through him, making his feet twitch, his hand grasp tightly onto his bedsheets, threatening to tear them.

He can't breathe, lungs unresponsive, as his cock hops and twitches and dribbles onto his bed. It's different, more intense, but feels _amazing._

He yanks out the toy and collapses fully onto the bed, turning onto his back, and throwing an arm over his eyes, chest heaving with every breath he sucks back into his lungs.

It truly is...something, how receptive Felix is to The Beast, as if he comes to life in a way he never has before. And It's distressing almost, the way he shivers when he hears The Beast come as well.

He's not exceptionally loud about it, not offensive in any way that would make Felix uncomfortable. He's just… it just…

It feels so much more intimate than he expects, and it's terrifying.

*

 _"Noah… how are you feeling, love?"_ A voice comes through the phone, after some silence.

He blinks from his stupor, recognizing the familiar cadence as The Prince. His Prince…?

Felix sits up carefully, minding how uncooperative his body is. "Not Noah…" he finds himself telling Alex. "It's Felix. Call me Felix…"

_"Felix…?"_

"My real name," he mumbles. "It's my real name."

_"Oh."_

"And, uh… I feel… I'm not sure," he says. He looks up at the ceiling, drawing his knees to his chin. "Good? Yeah. I feel good."

 _"Ah, good."_ He sounds relieved. _"Do you need me to do anything for you?"_

"No, I'm fine. Thanks, though."

_"Okay."_

More silence. Just them breathing together.

 _"Dimitri."_ Alex says, suddenly.

Felix blinks. 

"Huh?"

 _"You gave me your name,"_ he says. _"Dimitri is - it's my name."_

"Oh. Not Prince Charming?" Felix quips.

 _"I'm afraid not,"_ he says, sheepishly. _"Ah… I've done this for almost two years and I've never told anyone my name before. You're the first."_

"Really?"

_"Yes."_

Felix is stunned.

"Why me….?" he breathes. "Why now?"

 _"I… I don't know,"_ Alex - no - Dimitri admits _. "Something about who you are. How you are. You're stubborn, ornery and thick headed and you never behave when I ask you to. You're always ready to fight, and you give me headaches whenever I talk to you."_

Okay, rude.

_"But you're unabashedly yourself, and I admire that. And it's not even just that you speak your mind, there's also… there's a vulnerability I sense in you I feel is not unlike my own. Is that...is that strange to say?"_

_You feel it too?_ Felix doesn't say. He wraps his free arm around his knees, as if to shield himself. 

To feel kinship with a stranger like this... surely it's not completely unheard of.

"No," Felix says. "Not really."

 _"I, ah…"_ Dimitri starts after another pregnant pause. _"When I answered earlier. I didn't - I wasn't really trying to accuse you of forgetting me. I wasn't upset. I was - I was relieved. I thought that I had scared you away."_

"You thought you—"

 _"I know what you're going to say,"_ Dimitri continues, interrupting Felix. _"You said if I'd done anything you didn't like, you would tell me, but you have to understand that after… that happened, you went from calling every week to silent for two. And I thought that I'd perhaps crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I had soured your experience with me."_

"What? You could have just called or texted me? I mean, you have my number?" Felix replies without thinking. 

_"Oh!"_ he exclaims. _"I couldn't! I - That is to say - It wouldn't be professional of me to do that. Given that it would be without your permission, and your personal information isn't something I should be using for my own means."_

 _"Dimitri."_ The name feels odd to say, but he likes how it rolls off his tongue. "I think you're severely overestimating how much I would care if you messaged me out of the blue."

_"No, that's precisely why I didn't. Because I know it would be… unwanted. Unsolicited."_

"... _Okay_ , that's not what I said. I wouldn't care as in _it doesn't bother me,_ not I wouldn't care as in _I don't want you to."_

_"I don't —"_

"For the love of the - Dimitri, just give me your number," he snaps, losing patience. Mostly with himself for not having the right words to explain. "You can text or call me if I disappear again—" He's as nonchalant and unbothered as he can try for, but his face is on fire and his heart's pounding away like a jackhammer. "—and you're worried about me for some reason."

" _Felix... I don't think that's a good idea,"_ Dimitri says.

"Why not? We're—" _friends? Are we friends? "_ —two people that talk consistently enough it wouldn't be weird to do it without any sex involved. We've done it before."

_"Maybe so, but whatever you may think is happening here, it's not. I'm not...real. This isn't me. This is a fantasy."_

"Oh please. You honestly think I can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality? I'm not stupid. I don't care about talking to The Prince or The Beast or whatever the fuck you want to call yourself today. I want to talk to you. Dimitri. The guy behind the phone."

_"Me…?"_

"Look, it's fine if you don't want to. We can keep doing this. If you want."

_"No, no, I do. I'm… I'm simply afraid you'll find talking to me rather boring after a while. I'm not very interesting outside of work."_

"So what? You think I am?"

_"More so than I. By the sounds of it, you lead a very active lifestyle."_

"Not by choice," Felix mutters. "My friends are obsessed with dragging me places and making sure I don't spend a lot of time alone. It's been like this ever since…" Felix stops himself. "A while. It's been like this for a while, I mean."

_"Your friends care about you a great deal. That's not a bad thing."_

"They're _overbearing,_ " he grouses, but he doesn't know where he would be without them.

Dimitri laughs. Gentle, and so unlike the cruel, mocking laughter of The Beast that it makes Felix's chest feel warmer and lighter when he does, as if in this moment in time things are okay.

"I should go though," Felix sighs. He slips off the bed onto unsteady legs with a wince. "I… desperately need to clean up, but I don't know if I'm going to be able to walk because of you."

 _"My apologies,"_ Dimitri says. 

Felix snorts at him. "Don't give me that. You're not sorry."

 _"No,"_ he agrees, chuckling. _"I should go as well. Sleep well, Felix. I will…"_ he hesitates, _"text you? If that's alright?"_

"Yeah." It's more than alright. "Good night... Dimitri. And uh… thanks. For all of this."

_"Of course, love."_

-

Felix returns from his shower feeling pleasantly drowsy and light on his toes. He plugs his phone in to charge for the night, and notices he has a notification from a number he doesn't recognize.

His heart skips as he opens it. 

(513) 555 - 9821

00:12

Hello Felix, it's Dimitri.

It feels almost strange calling you by this name, but I suppose it is something I should get used to? I hope at least.

I thought I should send this to you before I lost my nerve. Have a good night. (.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> TALE AS OLD AS TIME  
> SONG AS OLD AS RHYME  
> ✨FELIX AND THE BEAST✨
> 
> \- Yams  
> 01 • 23 • 21


	9. stop, hammer time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix wants a one way ticket to bone town, please  
> (as a reward for having had to deal with people)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for: drinking, referenced drug use

At ten o'clock on a Monday morning, Felix's old man pulls him into his office for a _talk_.

"Please take a seat. I'm sure you know why you're here," he says, gesturing to the chair opposite him and trying to sound like Felix's boss and not like his father. He fails on both counts, but that's just how Rodrigue is.

Felix glances at him when he sits down, then looks away and folds his arms. "No," he says, "I don't. I was in the middle of something."

"Bernadetta can handle the front desk in your absence. That's why you hired her, did you not?"

Felix levels him with a glare but says nothing. Rodrigue, who is used to Felix giving him the silent treatment, presses on.

"Felix." He sighs his name, all world-weary and like he's about to start a lecture. "I'm proud of you, I want you to know that. You've always been a hard-working, intelligent, and strong young man. But I think lately I've taken that for granted."

Felix leans back in his chair, crossing his legs, staring at the comically large anatomical model in the corner. He's ready to tune out his father's concerns. He has more important things he could be thinking about. Like Dimitri, and how ridiculous he sounds when he laughs.

"I know these last few years have been… difficult for you. And I know that I, maybe, haven't been there for you as much as you need me to be. I know I cannot rewind time and undo what's already been done but I would like for us to sit down and have a discussion I think is long overdue."

Felix frowns, picking up on what he's hinting at. That's the last thing he wants to do, thanks.

Rodrigue leans forward, folding his hands on his desk.

"I say this because I'm afraid that my reluctance to do so may have resulted in things getting worse, rather than better between us, and I can't help but feel it's my fault that you've become a lot more withdrawn and less like your usual self. I'm worried that—"

"Get to the point, old man," Felix abruptly cuts in. Loudly, and sharp as the edge of a knife. He doesn't have the patience for this. Doesn't want to talk about this. "Why am I here? Do you have an issue with my job performance or not?"

His father hesitates.

"Well," he draws out slowly, "yes, and no but—"

"Because if not, I'm not interested in continuing this conversation any further."

Rodrigue heaves another sigh, takes off his glasses and wipes his hands over his face.

"Only part of this has to do with it," he admits through his fingers. "You made Mrs. Fredrickson cry last week."

Right.

The elderly woman who called him useless and incompetent and spent five minutes publicly humiliating him.

"So?" he asks. "Didn't you hear what she said to me?"

"Not explicitly, though I've heard enough to piece it together from what Marianne has told me. While I am aware her words were _inflammatory—_ " Felix snorts "— that's not how we do things here. We don't lambaste our patients when they do or say something that upsets us, Felix."

"Right, we lie on our backs like obedient dogs and take it, don't we?" Felix sneers.

"That's not what I - " Rodrigue starts, then stops. He purses his lips together and breaths deep through his nose. "Would you please do me a favour and apologize to her? She's been a patient here for a long time."

Felix's attention snaps to him, face full of fury and indignation. _"Excuse me?_ Me?"

"Felix." He can tell his father is trying to be reasonable but he doesn't want to hear it. "I understand how you feel."

_No you don't._

"I understand that it's frustrating to have to be the better person, but people often say things they don't mean out of anger. You've done it, I've done it, we've all done it. Mrs. Fredrickson is no different than us. She was angry, but you shouldn't hold it against her. I'm sure she didn't mean any of it."

"She meant every word," Felix says.

"You don't know that."

"I do. She hates me. Always has."

"Felix, please, you can't assume that because she was angry with you."

"I'm not assuming. I _know_ she does."

"She doesn't."

"She does!"

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what?" he demands. "How am I acting, Father?"

"Like a _child._ "

Felix stares at him.

Then he laughs, dry and humourless. The foot of his crossed leg shakes in irritation. "Oh," he says. "Oh, I see. Because I choose to defend myself and not let people walk all over me, it means I'm a child?"

"It does when it involves throwing a temper tantrum over an elderly woman. You're a grown man, I expect you to be better behaved than this. Professional, like your brother was."

Felix's chest tightens at the mention of Glenn; the paradigm of success. Rodrigue's Golden child.

His brother, who Felix loved with all his heart. 

His brother, who died senselessly.

"I'm not him," Felix says, voice betraying him as it quivers, "and I never will be. If you have an issue with my work or my attitude, that's fine. Reprimand me, or suspend me or _fire_ me if you want, _but leave him out of this."_ The last sentence ends on a hiss.

Rodrigue recoils as if struck.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. You're right of course. I shouldn't have - " He swallows and repeats, "I'm sorry." 

_Are you though?_

He's quiet for some time. The hands of the glass clock sitting on the bookshelf above them tick in the silence. Felix remembers picking it out with Glenn for Rodrigue's fortieth birthday. Looking at it now makes him feel ill.

"I - I want to make things right again between us," Rodrigue says quietly. "But I don't know what to say to you, Felix." 

"Then say nothing," Felix says, "because that's what you've always been good at."

Rodrigue doesn't even try to deny it. There's no point.

"That's really why I called you in here," he says instead. "I didn't bring you in here to punish or fire you. I just wanted to talk."

 _"_ Talk." Felix clicks his tongue. "Of course."

"You could, you know," Felix says after a pause. "Save us both the trouble and fire me. I'd be glad for it. It's not like I want to work here for the rest of my life."

His father looks sad. Defeated. Felix can't stand it. "Nor do I expect you to," he says. "That's not what I want. What I want is for you to be happy. I want you to find whatever it is you're passionate about and pursue it - I always have."

He pushes back his chair and pulls open a drawer in his desk. "I was saving these for when I thought you were ready, but maybe sometime you can…" He takes out a stack of heavy, colourful papers, and slides them over for Felix to take a look at. It takes Felix a second to realize what they are.

University and college pamphlets. Some of them from several of the top schools in the country, too. Where did he get these?

Felix thumbs at them like they're poison, sure that his face is twisted in disgust but unable to stop himself. His father is well meaning, but always falling short. It doesn't surprise him that Rodrigue would stash these away, only to ambush Felix with them at a later date.

"What the hell is this?" he asks, voice trembling.

"I thought you might want to have a look at these. If you change your mind about school," he replies. His eyes are full of a sympathy that makes Felix sick to his stomach. "If you don't want to work for me anymore, there might be something these schools offer that suits you better."

Felix stares at the papers.

Eventually he pushes them away.

"It's something to think about," Rodrigue says with a small shrug. "You can transfer credits to any of these schools, unless you would rather try to finish your degree at your old university."

"I'm not interested," Felix says. 

_Running again._

_Why are you always running, Felix?_

Sothis, it sounds like Glenn. He needs to get out of here.

"Felix…"

"This conversation is over," Felix announces flatly, getting to his feet. "I'm going back to work."

"Felix, please —"

Felix doesn't look back as he slams the office door behind him.

-

He and his father don't speak for the remainder of the day, and the rest of the staff (and even some patients) maintain a wide berth of him. Only Dorothea attempts to hold conversation with Felix, coming in to discuss new products and PPE offers.

Even Sylvain, sensing his bad mood, doesn't stay for long when he drops by. He pulls Felix out of the office briefly to take a walk and get a bite to eat. Felix feels only marginally less pissed off afterwards, but it's still a better alternative to punching his father in the face and breaking his nose.

Instead of going straight home after locking up at the end of the day, Felix makes the trek down the block to his favourite café, unable to shake the conversation with his father from earlier. 

He has Dimitri's number, and with it comes a shift inside of his brain.

Felix can feel the puzzle pieces slowly slot into place to create _something_ , the fragments of his life gradually coalescing into a whole without a larger picture just yet. None that he can see, anyway. 

Things aren't different but at the same time they _are_. Felix feels different, but at the same time he _doesn't_. It's paradoxical, and one avenue of thought he's not quite ready to pursue.

But one thing is for certain: Felix knows he has to leave. He has to quit his job and find something new. 

Maybe uprooting himself completely and leaving Charon altogether is the answer. Travelling somewhere else where no one knows him, where he can start life over and—

And then what? 

He leaves and then what? He'd be leaving behind his friends and loved ones - all the people who care about him, and for what? 

…

He doesn't know.

He hates the feeling of needing to leave but hates that he has no idea what to do and where to go even more.

-

The smell of fresh brew and the warm rush of air that greets him upon crossing the threshold of the café immediately relaxes all the muscles in his body and dissolves his lingering headache. If there is one place in Felix's life that remains untainted by bad memories, it's this one. A sanctuary of sorts. He only wishes it was open mic tonight so he could get lost in the music, too.

While he waits in line to order, he examines the food display, stomach gurgling as his eyes pass over a spicy chicken wrap. He decides to purchase it in addition to his coffee and takes a seat on one of the plush couches in the corner of the café, nearest the back window. 

Around him are several other patrons typing away on laptops, huddled together over piles of notes, or nose-deep in weighty textbooks. _Anna's_ attracts all types, but considering many school's semesters are underway, it's not surprising to find its current clientele is mainly composed of post-secondary students. 

It reminds Felix a lot of Dimitri (but these days, what doesn't?), who'd mentioned the other week that he was starting school soon, and that there might be delays in when he answers calls or texts.

_"I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you if I don't answer your texts or call you back right away," he explains to Felix._

_Felix merely rolls his eyes and assures Dimitri that he is quite familiar with juggling student life with a social life and, "I'm not going to be offended you don't get back to me the next day or a couple days later."_

Except, ideally he doesn't _want_ to wait those two days, but he knows he's not in the position to ask that of Dimitri. Not at this point.

 _Ironic_ , Felix thinks, sipping his coffee with a content smile and pulling out his phone, _considering everything else I've asked him to do._

Felix has no idea what Dimitri's school schedule looks like and has never asked for it, so each time he tries to call him is a crapshoot on whether he'll answer or not. Weekdays he tends to be the busiest for obvious reasons, but weekends are generally safe. Except after nine because, as it turns out, that's when Dimitri opens up his hotline number.

(He once answered Felix in the middle of a call and had to quickly explain why he couldn't talk. Thankfully, his client wasn't on speaker so he didn't have to hear anything.)

He's taking a chance with calling on a Monday, but with any luck Dimitri won't have an evening lecture.

He's just bitten into his wrap when the phone stops ringing and connects.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, it's me," he says, muffled.

The best and worst thing about talking to Dimitri is that Felix can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

_"Hey! How are you? Finished work?"_

"Yeah," he says. "What about you? Done class?"

_"Yes! I just got home, actually. I was about to go soak in the tub."_

"Oh. Uh. Sorry," he mumbles. "I can call back if this is a bad time."

_"No, no! It's quite alright."_

"You're sure?"

_"Yes, of course."_

Something pleasant settles in Felix's chest. Relief, perhaps. 

"Good. I'm going to hog you for a while then. I hope you're prepared." 

Dimitri laughs his snorting little piggy laugh and Felix hides the grin Dimitri cannot see by taking another bite of his wrap.

_"Let me pour myself a drink first, and then I'm all yours."_

-

Felix starts by telling Dimitri about what happened with Rodrigue, satiating the need to expel his feelings of frustration over his father first so he can move on. 

"—of course I knew this would happen eventually, but that doesn't mean I was expecting it, if that makes sense?" 

Dimitri acknowledges him with a hum, knowing that he's not really looking for an answer.

"And it's not the idea of going back that scares me," Felix confesses, lightly gnawing on the lid of his coffee cup after taking a sip. "It's more… I don't know. I don't like being reminded about where I've failed, for one thing. And at this point, I don't know what I would do if I did. Go back, that is. How did you know?"

_"How did I know what?"_

"What you wanted to do," Felix clarifies. "The social work thing. Maybe it's because we still don't know each other that well, but I feel like you have your life figured out better than I do."

Dimitri chuckles. _"Well, I don't know about that,"_ he says, _"but what I can tell you is there is no rush to figure things out. You'll find your way eventually."_

"I hope you're right," Felix murmurs, more to himself. "But seriously, how?"

Dimitri falls quiet, the way Felix notices he does when he's giving his answer some thought. He's admitted to bouts of impulsivity, but whenever they dive into more serious topics, he always chooses his words carefully. 

_"I… it took me a lot of time. I strongly believe our experiences shape who we are as people, and I went through a lot before getting where I am now. I don't want any child to have to suffer in the same ways I did, so I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure they don't. That's the simplest explanation I can give you."_

Purposely cryptic as usual. Felix doesn't want to speculate what happened to Dimitri in the past, but sometimes he can't help it. Dimitri guards his heart more closely than Felix does, but Felix doesn't think he does it because it's fragile.

 _"I'll tell you about it one day,"_ Dimitri says, and they leave it at that.

-

As most of their calls go these days, their conversation gradually devolves into a game of twenty questions. Felix feels silly playing, but Dimitri enjoys himself, and it's been a rather low stakes and lighthearted method of getting to know each other.

 _"Okay, next question,"_ Dimitri says, continuing from where they left off the last time they did this. _"First kiss?"_

"Easy," Felix replies. "My best friend Ingrid, when we were in sixth grade."

_"How was it?"_

"Awful. She had egg salad for lunch, and she smelled like a fart."

 _"Felix!"_ Dimitri exclaims. _"That's a terrible thing to say!"_

"Yeah, but it's true."

_"Maybe, but you don't have to say it!"_

"Like _yours_ was any better?" Felix challenges.

 _"I will have you know,"_ Dimitri says, matter-of-factly, _"my first kiss was… pleasant for two people who'd never kissed anyone before."_

"Uh huh." Felix doesn't believe him. "Sure it was."

_"We were older than twelve, I can assure you it wasn't terrible. We were seventeen. He took me up on the ferris wheel when the carnival was in town."_

"That's gay," Felix says.

 _"Very,"_ Dimitri agrees. _"I had a wonderful time. We dated for a few years after that."_

"Yeah, Ingrid and I didn't. We were never really like that. She and Sylvain, though…"

_"Hm?"_

"Oh, they're still being idiots. They - well, if you met them you'd understand."

-

At some point during their game, Felix picks up on what sounds like a faint bark in the background. Unique to any of their previous phone calls.

"I didn't know you had a dog," he says.

 _"Ah, yes! It's a very recent development. A friend of mine was taking care of her for a while. She is quite a handful."_ As the barking gets louder, Felix can hear Dimitri quietly shushing her.

_"My apologies, she's not used to her crate yet. She's just a puppy. She - ouch, Callisto, that's my finger - she might be a little upset with me right now. You have pets too, right?"_

"I do. Cats."

_"I can't remember if you've ever shown them to me before."_

"Not that I can recall? Is this your subtle way of asking another question, even though it's _my_ turn to ask?"

Dimitri laughs sheepishly _. "Maybe. I do like animals. If you like I can return the favour with a picture of my own?"_

Felix mulls it over. He doesn't dislike dogs, and was actually quite fond of the hounds the Gautiers had when Sylvain's father used to take him and Sylvain hunting in the winter. But while he admires them for their intelligence, he happens to enjoy the independence of cats more.

Well, that and the fact that they take up less space in his apartment.

"Fine, give me a minute."

He flips through his pitiful photo gallery, settling on a picture from early this morning of Momo and Charlie curled up together on the highest platform of their cat tree. There's a whole row of them to pick from.

No such thing as too many.

"There. Sent."

 _"Oh, that's cute!"_ Dimitri says after a brief pause. " _Do they always cuddle like that?"_

"Not really. Usually they sleep on my chest or my face."

_"Your face? Really?"_

Felix shrugs. "They must like the warmth, I don't know. Every night is a fight for my life," he deadpans.

 _"I'm so sorry to hear that,"_ Dimitri says. 

"Thanks. If I ever stop calling, assume they've smothered me to death."

-

 _"Okay so, after making several attempts to get a good picture, I've decided the only way I'll get one is by holding her,"_ Dimitri says, presumably now on speaker phone. _"Apologies in advance for my state of dress. As I said I was hoping to have a bath."_

Felix waits for him, momentarily eavesdropping on what appears to be a first date at one of the tables closest to where he's seated. The couple are both quiet, shy people, and it's not very exciting to watch them fumble through awkward small talk.

 _"Okay,"_ Dimitri says. _"It should have sent."_

Felix pulls eyes away from the couple and his phone from his ear to check his messages—

And almost drops his phone when the picture loads.

…

_Holy._

_Fucking._

_Shit._

The puppy is, of course, _adorable_ , there's no question about that. She looks like a golden lab, or golden retriever. Felix doesn't really know dog breeds.

But the man in the photo is…

Is…

Mother of —

This is what Dimitri really looks like?

Felix wants to fling his phone across the room. He needs a moment to digest this new information, because first of all Dimitri is shirtless. _Why is he shirtless??_

_He said he was going to take a bath, remember?_

Oh right.

Second of all he's… Dimitri is _hot_. He's all broad shoulders, messy blond hair, deep set blue eyes (eye? he can only see one with his bangs in the way), with a soft but angular jaw. And his _smile_. It's crooked and awkward, but charming? It's the type of smile he expects from someone who isn't used to smiling, sort of like Felix himself.

(He likes it.)

Felix's brain cannot comprehend that _this_ is the guy who's been taking his calls this entire time.

Good fucking Goddess. It feels too good to be true. He's had _sex_ with him.

 _"Did it send okay?"_ Dimitri asks.

"Yeah," Felix answers, voice cracking and sounding far far away. He clears his throat and tries to compose himself. "She's cute. Is that you?" 

_'Is that you?'_ his own voice mocks him. _Who else would it be, dipshit?_

_"Yes, sorry. I was trying to get one without my face in it but she wouldn't stay still."_

"It's fine," Felix says. And because his brain to mouth filter is broken he adds, "You're...hot."

 _"Oh, um, thank you,"_ he says, sounding bashful.

"...Do you want to see what I look like?"

Felix truly deserves an award for keeping his cool. He looks at the photo again, heat creeping up the back of his neck.

_"Oh, sure! But only if you're comfortable sharing?"_

He's not. Not really. He hates taking pictures of himself, but it's only fair if he does, right?

"Yeah, it doesn't bother me," he lies.

He tries to remember Dorothea's tips ("Everyone has one side that's better than the other, take advantage of your good side!") as he snaps several photos, his heart racing. He even tries to fix some of the flyaways coming from his bun at first, and adjusts the angle of his camera, but gives up when it looks like he's trying _too_ hard.

 _Stupid_.

He knows he isn't bad looking. Not supermodel worthy, but he's turned heads before.

Probably.

His hands are sweating. He's so nervous.

...What if Dimitri thinks he's ugly?

 _Keep it together_ , he tells himself. Sure, Dimitri may be one of the hottest men Felix has ever seen in his life, but he's still just a man. Who gives a shit?

"Now keep in mind, before you judge me for my appearance," Felix babbles, trying to decide which of the photos to send to Dimitri, "I'm still in my scrubs so…"

 _"I'm sure you look lovely, no matter what,"_ Dimitri reassures him, which only serves to make him even _more_ nervous.

Felix chooses the least offensive of the batch and holds his breath before sending it. He counts the seconds in terrified silence.

One.

Two. 

Three.

 _"Got it!"_ Felix hears. _"I - oh._ **_Oh_** _."_

"What?"

Oh fuck. This is bad.

_"Oh, wow."_

Uh.

_"Felix… wow. You look - you look nothing like I expected at all."_

What does _that_ mean?

_"You're absolutely gorgeous. I - wow."_

_Oh._

_"Shut up,"_ Felix says, covering his face. He can feel it burning up in embarrassment. _Shut up, shut up. Who says that?_

 _"I'm so sorry,"_ Dimitri says. _"I just - I can't help it. I'm speechless?"_

"You're _embarrassing_ is what you are."

_"I promise I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."_

Except Felix _isn't_ uncomfortable, that's the worst part. He finds he likes the attention, and despite his embarrassment he's a lot calmer than before.

"I know. What were you expecting?"

_"I was picturing… hm, how do I explain this? Sort of like a generic, but still very handsome college student type. Short hair, tall, athletic and well built."_

"So, you were half right."

_"Only half right, yes, which is better I think. There's nothing generic about you at all."_

Felix resists the urge to preen.

Gorgeous, he said. He thinks Felix is _gorgeous_.

-

They talk until Felix's battery is almost dead and only a few patrons are left in the café. Which is just as well, because his ass is asleep from sitting too long and he still has to go home, shower, and make dinner.

 _"That's a good idea,"_ Dimitri says with a yawn. _"I'll let you go then. Callisto, are you going to say goodbye to Felix?"_

Felix waits. 

There's no response, only Dimitri's laughter.

_"She tilted her head at me and grabbed one of her squeaky toys. I guess that's close enough? Have a good night."_

"Yeah, you too," Felix says with a snort, and hangs up.

(That night Felix guiltily jerks off before bed, phone clutched tightly in one hand.)

-

The Wyvern Moon is upon Felix before he knows it, and with it comes the realization of two things: he's spent almost another year of his life accomplishing next to nothing, and next month is the anniversary of Glenn's passing.

But rather than think about either of these (because it's easier to ignore than confront his own complicated feelings), he allows Leonie to drag him out thrift shopping three weeks away from Halloween.

Now, Felix considers himself to be pretty good with his money. Leonie's showed him a few tips and tricks about saving cash and the value of buying second hand, and Felix ordinarily won't spend in excess if he doesn't need to, but he's hardly the thrift queen she is. 

"There are some things you should always buy new," she explains, digging through racks upon racks of used clothing, "like shoes, and mattresses and pillows for instance. But for most other things, used is just as good as, if not better than new. Like a car. _Never_ buy a brand new car because its value depreciates as soon as it leaves the lot."

"You sound like Glenn when I bought my first car," he says from behind a pile of clothes in his arms for Leonie to try on. "He got mad at me for even suggesting it, as if I'm supposed to know anything about cars."

"Well you should know _some_ things," Leonie says. She holds up two shirts for him to look at: paisley printed, blue button up in one hand, plain, orange and low cut tank top in the other. "Which one, do you think?" 

He squints at them.

"I don't know? Try them both?"

She sighs. "You're no help, you know that?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," he mutters. "And for your information, I do know a few things about cars. How to pump gas, fill up my washer fluid and check my oil."

"So, basic stuff."

"Obviously. Why would I spend my time learning how to do all that when I can just pay someone?"

"Because think of all the money you can save if you do it yourself!"

"And when it backfires and I have to get someone else to do it anyway?"

Leonie laughs. "Oh please, this is you, Felix. You once spent five hours teaching yourself how to crochet out of spite."

Felix forgets how the bet came about, but he _does_ remember the stupefied look Sylvain had given him when he triumphantly threw a lumpy looking, crocheted square at his face two days later.

"Anyways," she says, "we should try looking for something for you too while we're here."

"Me?" he asks. "Why?"

"For your costume?"

Felix makes a face. "Who says I'm going?"

"Aren't you?"

"I wasn't really planning on it. What's with all our friends and having parties lately anyway?" 

Leonie pauses in the midst of rifling through the sweater rack in front of her to look at Felix.

"It's Halloween, why _wouldn't_ we have one?" she replies.

By we she means Sylvain. 

"You don't think it's a little excessive?"

"No? I think it's fun. Hold this." She passes him a wool knitted sweater. "This is the one night of the year you can dress up, make a fool of yourself, and not be judged for it."

"But you already don't care what other people think of you," he points out, frowning when she throws yet _another_ shirt on the pile. 

"I meant you, doofus," she says with a hint of fondness.

"But I already don't care what people think of me."

"I _know_ that, but what about Claude?"

"What about him?"

"I'm sure he'd like it if you dressed up."

"I don't think he cares," Felix says with a snort. "But if _you_ really want me to, I will."

-

"So," Leonie says, after they've finished shopping and loaded themselves and their goods into Felix's car, "what did you want to talk to me about that's so secret you can't tell either of your best friends?"

Straight to the point. He should've seen this coming. 

"And _you_ can't either," he says, turning the ignition and backing up out of the parking lot. His hands tense on the steering wheel. "You promised." He can feel Leonie's curious gaze burning into his profile. He's...afraid. He's afraid of what she's going to think.

"I met a guy a few months ago," he tells her after a minute or so.

"Oh?" Leonie tilts her head to indicate she's listening.

"Okay, _kind of_ met. We've been talking a lot on the phone." He fumbles for his phone and pulls up the picture Dimitri sent him with Callisto, shoving it under Leonie's nose for her to see.

"This is him. He's from Fhirdiad."

"Ohh…" Leonie says, zooming in on the picture. "Blonds, huh?"

"Shut up," he says, easing off the break to roll into a turn.

Leonie snickers and hands his phone back. "He's cute," she says. "I like his puppy. How'd you guys meet?"

"Online," Felix says. Which, he's not lying about per se, because Sylvain did find Dimitri's ad online, but he's not telling the whole truth either.

He starts from the beginning, fudging a lot of the intimate details along the way. They pull in through a fast food drive-thru to get something to eat, and Felix continues while they wait in the queue.

From the first phone call, Claude's party and everything in between, up to their most recent call, he tells Leonie everything, feeling like most of the weight has been lifted off his chest but no less embarrassed for it.

His face is so hot by the end that he could probably fry an egg on it, and he refuses to look Leonie in the eye.

"—and I don't know if it's because of everything that happened with Annie, or what it is, but it's… it's like I can't help myself. Even with Claude in the picture."

"Felix…"

"I figured I should tell someone. I don't know if it's going to go anywhere, but I feel a lot like Sylvain right now because of it." He glances at Leonie. "I thought if I kept seeing Claude, eventually whatever this is would go away. That I could satisfy a physical need if that's what I was missing. Except it's...not working."

"Okay well, I'm not an expert when it comes to love or relationships but, if I had to guess, I'd say you've developed a crush on this guy," she says, tossing a chicken nugget into her mouth.

 _"A crush?"_ He rolls his eyes. "What are we, in middle school? I'm too old to be having _crushes._ And even if it was, I'm sure I'd know if I had one."

"Apparently not," Leonie says, looking every bit the skeptic. "You're pretty torn up about this."

He frowns and takes a few bites from his sandwich.

"Okay, I have a question for you," she says. "This thing with Claude…"

He swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"We aren't _dating,_ if that's what you're going to ask. We just…you know."

"Ah, say no more," she says in understanding, raising her hand. "But I'm not gonna lie, I _thought_ it was a little strange when you told me about you guys."

"What, really? Why?"

Leonie's reaction had been one of surprise, but it hadn't raised any flags for Felix at the time. Now he feels like it should have. 

She looks reluctant to tell him, but obligated to do so now that she's said something. "Well…"

-

Felix sets his keys on the kitchen counter with a clatter when he gets home, both cats winding around his legs and begging to be fed from the time he walks through the door. His mulls over his talk with Leonie while Momo and Charlie scream at him as he cracks open a can of wet food.

_"You remember Lorenz, right?" Leonie says. "Tall, long hair, bitchy looking?"_

_"I remember," Felix says._

_"Well, he and Claude have been on and off for years. Mostly because of Lorenz' dad. I thought this was another one of Claude's schemes to goad Lorenz into telling his dad to back off once and for all."_

Suddenly all those looks Lorenz kept giving him at Claude's party make sense. It had nothing to do with what Felix was wearing whatsoever.

Why hadn't Claude told him? It's not like they're exclusive.

_"...and what do you think now?"_

_"I think… I think you should talk to Claude. If you're not feeling this whatever it is you've got going on with him, you should let him know, regardless of what's happening with Dimitri. Best not to drag it out longer than you have to, right? You'll only make yourself unhappy."_

She's right of course. He should.

His phone buzzes as he's sorting through his goods from the thrift store, laying them out on the kitchen counter. He sets down the package of costume makeup he's reading, and reaches for his phone. 

He's disappointed to see that it's Claude.

Eyebrows

20:25

Hey kitty cat, what are you up to tonight?

Wanna come over?

He contemplates leaving him on read. Ignoring the message altogether.

But it's been a long day, he doesn't dislike Claude, and he has questions he wants to ask him.

  
  


Eyebrows

Hey kitty cat, what are you up to tonight?

Wanna come over?

20:25

Back from shopping.

Give me about a half hour.

20:31

:D

Great, see you soon.

20:34

_-_

He doesn't ask Claude anything that night, that week, nor the next.

And before he knows it, it's Halloween night and he's spent the last hour and a half perfecting his makeup in front of his bathroom mirror. 

(See also: trying not to stab himself in the eye as he blends dark shadows under his lower lash line.)

So what if he obsessively watched and re-watched a vampire makeup tutorial just for this? There's a contest for best costume, and while Felix thinks it's _stupid_ he also wants to win whatever dumbass prize Sylvain picked out for first place.

"I'm almost done," he tells Dimitri, who he had to call to bitch to throughout the whole process. And because Dimitri is apparently a saint, he only laughs at Felix _once._ "This is the best vampire makeup you've ever seen, guaranteed."

 _"I can't wait to see it,"_ Dimitri says. 

"You said you're going out too, right?"

_"Yes, soon in fact."_

"What are you supposed to be exactly? Are you - is that a Thor costume?"

 _"It came with its own Mjolnir!"_ Dimitri holds up a plastic hammer, too small in his hands, and waves it at the camera. _"It's a little on the small side, but I think it's cute."_

"Adorable really," Felix agrees, glancing at the screen. He finishes the last touch ups to his face and frowns at the mirror. He gathers up his hair and redirects his phone so Dimitri can see him.

"Hair up or down?" he says.

Dimitri hums in consideration, staring at Felix. 

Felix wants to simultaneously squirm and revel in the attention of his scrutiny, but also return his stare. Dimitri's hair is half tied back to reveal more of his handsome face, bangs falling artfully over his forehead.

Again, however, his right eye is covered, this time by an eyepatch. Felix isn't invested in the movies or comics enough to question the accuracy of his costume so he doesn't comment on it, though it is a little strange. Maybe Thor _does_ have an eyepatch.

 _"Up,"_ is what Dimitri decides for him.

"Up it is then," Felix says, grabbing a brush and hair tie to throw his hair up into a proper bun.

_"You look stunning, by the way."_

"Thanks." He hopes the white makeup will disguise his blush. "You don't think the shirt is too much?"

Dimitri's eye drops to the deep v of Felix's shirt — some _Fabio_ style blouse Leonie chose that he's tucked into high waisted pants — expression dark and unreadable. 

Then he appears to snap out of whatever trance he's in and shakes his head. _"No,"_ he says, _"it's perfect."_

-

Felix and Ingrid are the first to arrive at the Gautier lake house for the party.

Sylvain is half in the bag already when he greets them at the door, and Ingrid has to pry Sylvain off of Felix in exasperation after he hoists him off the ground in a hug, loudly belting out his excitement upon seeing him despite them having hung out literally days ago.

"Don't even try it," she says, pointing her fake plastic sword at Sylvain when he turns on her next and tries to pick her up too. "You're going to wrinkle my costume. Come on, Felix. I have a few more decorations I didn't get the chance to put up earlier. Let's see if we can get this done before everyone else starts showing up."

-

The lake house is in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and has been the site of many a summer hangout between Sylvain and his friends, both this year and many years prior. And while it's sat empty for over a month since summer officially ended, tonight it's bumping; lit up and teeming with people of various ages and states of intoxication on the front lawn, inside, outside on the back deck, and even down by the water on the docks.

Why someone would want to be near the lake when it's fucking _freezing_ out is anyone's guess, but there's no logic quite like drunk logic. Felix chooses to ignore the idiots tossing themselves into the water that he can see from the window inside the house, as he knocks back yet another shot of whatever the fuck concoction Sylvain threw together for them. 

"Enjoying yourself there?" Linhardt asks from the cushion beside Felix. He's loosely sprawled half on the couch, half on Sylvain (who is currently losing a passionate argument to Leonie and Ingrid) with his feet thrown across Felix's lap. He's the big bad wolf to Sylvain's red riding hood (unexpected, them wearing a couple's costume), although somewhere along the way Sylvain has stolen Linhardt's wolf ears. They sit half-cocked atop his head.

"Oh, absolutely," Felix says, making a face at the taste and putting down the plastic shot glass. It's too sweet.

"I can tell."

"Let me put it this way," Felix explains, "the sooner I can get blackout and not remember any of this, the better." After all, he's not here because he wants to be. He never likes any of these parties, no matter who hosts them. He'd rather be home surrounded by his cats or smacking around a punching bag.

"I thought you wanted to win the contest?" Linhardt drawls, dragging a hand through Sylvain's hair as he continues to argue with the girls over the price of _razors_ of all things. He hasn't been drinking much, but whatever gummies he'd eaten earlier have certainly taken effect. 

Felix shrugs. "Oh I still plan to win, but I don't need to be sober to do that." He nudges Linhardt's feet off his lap and gets up, swaying a bit in his boots. "And on that note I'm going to see what's in the fridge. Do you want anything while I'm there?"

Linhardt blinks sleepily, feet slipping into the space Felix once occupied. "No, I'm okay for now, but if you find any snacks, I'll take those."

"Right."

-

The contents of the fridge are exactly as he suspects: bottles upon bottles of liquor, cans of craft beer, and even some white wine bottles grace its shelves. Felix knows he shouldn't mix, but the Sauvignon Blanc at the very bottom shelf practically has his name written on it.

He takes it.

And then spends the next five minutes tearing apart the kitchen to find a damn corkscrew because of course Sylvain couldn't buy something cheap and easy with a twist cap.

"You've got to be kidding me," he says out loud, slamming closed another drawer. "Where the hell is it?"

"Looking for this?"

Felix whips around at the unknown voice. He looks up to see a familiar and yet not at all familiar face. 

Tall, sharp featured…

 _Ah_.

Shit.

It's just like Felix's luck to run into _him_.

Lorenz leans casually against the counter with one of his eyebrows raised in question, holding a corkscrew between his fingers like a cigarette. He's much taller up close than expected, made worse by the chunky heels of his boots. Felix has no idea who or what he's supposed to be with his gray spandex (spandex? good Goddess, Felix can practically see his dick) leggings, leather vest and floppy lace shirt, but he's too afraid to ask.

What he _does_ know is Lorenz has something that he wants.

"Yeah, actually," he says, holding out his hand. "Do you mind?"

"You're Felix, aren't you?" is what Lorenz asks instead of giving him the corkscrew. He taps it against his chin in thought. "I almost couldn't tell with all the makeup in the way, but I recognized your hair."

His hair?

Felix hasn't had enough to drink to deal with this, and his patience is already thin to begin with.

"Yeah, that's me. What do you want?"

"You're not going to drink that whole bottle yourself are you?"

"I was planning to. Can I have that?" He points to the corkscrew. Lorenz ignores his question.

"It would be a shame to drink alone," he says. "Have a drink with me instead."

Felix is instantly suspicious. He narrows his eyes at Lorenz, folding his arms.

"Why, what's your angle?"

"No angle," Lorenz replies with a lofty hair flip. "Just a drink."

He doubts that. He doubts that very much. Before he knows what's happening, though, Lorenz has taken the bottle and opened it for them. He procures two wine glasses from the cupboard and fills them, sliding one over to Felix with a polite smile.

Felix, no less suspicious, takes it.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself properly yet," Lorenz says, swirling the wine in his glass and taking a sniff of it. "Lorenz Hellman Gloucester."

"Like the mayonnaise company," Felix says on impulse. "I know who you are."

"The mayonnaise— _how rude!"_ he sputters, hand pressed to his chest, aghast. "I've nothing to do with _mayonnaise!_ "

Felix smirks at him and takes a sip of the wine. A little on the dry side, it's a welcome shift from the candy-like shots from earlier. He allows himself a moment to enjoy it, letting Lorenz continue to chew him out in the meantime.

-

Once he calms down about the whole mayonnaise thing, Lorenz goes on to tell Felix more about himself, explaining how he's actually the scion to Leicester Pharmaceuticals; one of the biggest companies in all of Fodlan.

The name is of course very familiar to Felix, as they supply the vast majority of vaccines for the office. But since he doesn't deal with the CEO or anyone else on the managerial totem pole, he wasn't aware Mr. Gloucester even had a son.

It figures that all the wealthy must know the other wealthy if Lorenz and Sylvain are friends. This makes him wonder even more about Claude who rarely speaks of his family to Felix; if it's really only his grandfather with all the money.

Because while it may be pure judgement on Felix's part, he doubts someone like Lorenz would give the time of day to anyone who was below him in terms of social status.

"And what is it you do, if you don't mind my asking?" Lorenz asks him. 

He does mind.

They've relocated to the kitchen bar stools, where the music is slightly quieter, to chat; the incessant bass pounds in the background and Felix's head regardless. 

Felix draws lines through the condensation of his glass as he contemplates making up some fake occupation to throw Lorenz off. In the end he settles for the truth.

"I'm the officer manager for my father's medical practice," he states gruffly, watching Lorenz for signs of disapproval from the corner of his eye. He's surprised to find none, only a vague sense of curiosity.

"Really? You don't look the type. Who is your father?"

"Dr. Rodrigue Fraldarius."

"Hm. I'm not familiar. Is he a specialist?"

"Not anymore. He used to be an orthopedic surgeon, but he's since switched to general practice. Stress-related reasons, I think. We don't really get along or talk much." 

Lorenz nods along, sympathetically. "I think I understand. My father and I don't exactly see eye to eye either these days. I don't think he looks very highly upon my—" his lips quirk into a half smile "—'becoming my own person,' so to speak." 

"I see. So he's one of _those_ ," Felix says. Felix is grateful that at least for all his faults, his father has never actively tried to control his life. Lorenz it seems, is not so lucky. 

"He is," Lorenz confirms. His smile twists unpleasantly and he takes another drink.

They lapse into silence, savouring their wine (in Lorenz' case) or drinking as quickly as possible (in Felix's). Felix feels like he's being studied as he pours himself a second glass.

"So what did you really want to talk to me about," Felix says after topping up Lorenz' glass. "Obviously you're not interested in discussing work or my hobbies, or our shitty father situations. This is about Claude isn't it?"

Lorenz folds his long legs, one over the other.

"Hmph," he says, eyebrows pinching together at the accusation, "this has nothing to do with him. Who he decides to associate with is none of my concern."

 _No, but you're_ _making_ _it your concern,_ Felix thinks.

"It sure seems like it is," he says. "So I'm going to ask you again: what is your angle? Are you here to sniff me out? Warn me away? Tell me to back off? Which is it?"

"Simple curiosity," Lorenz says with a sniff. "Claude's taken an interest in you, which he doesn't do with just anyone, and I wanted to know why."

Felix would like to know that too, actually. Leonie's words float to the surface of his mind again, the ones about Claude and his _schemes._

_Whatever those are._

"Ask him yourself. We don't really talk about that kind of thing."

"I have, and he's never given me a straight answer. Naturally, I had to find out for myself."

"And? What's your verdict so far?"

"Undecided," he says.

Felix huffs a laugh and lifts his glass. The alcohol running through his veins has put him in a much better mood than where he'd started. He clinks his glass to Lorenz'.

"Hah. I'll drink to that."

-

They're finishing off the rest of the bottle when Lorenz at last comes to his decision. And to be honest, Felix can't say he's that surprised.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Felix Fraldarius. I don't like you, and I don't trust you," he states plainly, giving Felix a withering look. "You seem like someone who's dishonest with his words and his feelings, and I believe you and Claude are ill-matched. I think eventually all you two would do is destroy one other."

Felix doesn't have the mental capacity to even try to pretend he disagrees with him. No shit they're _ill-matched._ If they weren't, they'd actually be _dating_.

"Thanks," Felix says.

"It wasn't a compliment," Lorenz says, scowling. 

Felix opens his mouth again, preparing to say more, when just then —

"Felix!" calls a familiar voice, "there you are!"

Lorenz startles so badly he knocks over his glass, spilling wine onto his shoes and the floor. As he furiously tries to clean up, glaring at the mess, Claude approaches them and slings an arm around Felix's waist, kissing his temple in greeting.

He pulls away with a laugh when Felix grumbles in response.

"Lorenz," he sing-songs, "have you been hogging him to yourself all this time?" His tone is playful, but Felix can feel him tense as Lorenz's mouth purses in annoyance. 

"Hardly. We were having a perfectly civil conversation over a bottle of wine before you showed up," Lorenz says, flicking wine off his hand in disgust. 

"Really now? He hasn't been giving you a hard time?" Claude directs this question to Felix, who gives him a half shrug and, because he's drunk and he may as fucking well be petty, leans into Claude's embrace.

"Not more than I can handle," he says. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Han Solo," Lorenz answers for Claude, openly pissed.

"Hey, you remembered his name!" Claude says.

"Only because you forced me to watch all three movies in the original trilogy. _Four times_."

"Because they're the _best_ ones. I see you went with the goblin king this year, huh? Good choice."

"Yes, well," Lorenz huffs, smoothing out his ruffled collar.

"Anyways," Claude drags out, subtly tugging on Felix's belt loops. Felix gets the hint and slides off the stool, more unsteady on his feet than before. "You don't mind if I steal Felix away for a bit, do you?"

Lorenz looks like he very much does, but flips his hair again dismissively. "Do whatever you like," he says with a sneer, swiping the empty bottle off the island top. "Far be it from me to try to stop you."

"Cool," Claude says, and drags Felix off.

-

"I'm sorry about him," Claude sighs when they're well out of range of Lorenz' sight. "I asked Sylvain to talk to him beforehand, make sure he was on his best behaviour, but it looks like he didn't. And now Sylvain's too shitfaced to do anything about it."

"It wasn't that bad," Felix says, slumping against him for support as he leads them somewhere to sit down. "Besides, I could kick his ass if I needed to."

"I know you could," Claude chuckles, "but I'd rather you not."

"Party-pooper," Felix mumbles, giving Claude's earrings a flick. 

-

Claude keeps Felix occupied the rest of the night by returning him to his friends, and makes sure he stays well away from Lorenz. 

It's kind of sweet that he thinks Felix needs protecting, even though Felix is pretty sure he could take Claude in a fight too.

Perhaps not a battle of wits, but certainly in something more physical.

Felix thinks there's something important he's supposed talk about with him with regards to the whole Lorenz thing, but when he gets dragged off to dance by Leonie the lumberjack and the rest of the girls, he forgets all about it.

-

The first place prize goes to Dorothea for her dominatrix costume.

Felix throws his glass of whiskey across the room, calling bullshit, and is subsequently cut off for the rest of the night.

Someone locks him in one of the bedrooms after that to sulk, deeming him too drunk to function.

Fools. He is Felix Hugo Fraldarius. He is not drink.

…

Drunk.

He's not _drunk._

"I'm not drunk," he says to the locked door. It doesn't reply, and he thinks that's pretty fucking rude. So he says it louder for a second time, jabbing his finger at it.

"I am not. Drunk."

Still no reply.

Fuck it.

He flops back onto the bed and scowls at the ceiling. The comforter smells faintly of mothballs and disuse.

Luckily for Felix, no one thought to take away his cellphone before locking him in here, so that means he can use his phone to talk to someone who _will_ listen. 

"You all think you're so smart locking me in, don't you? Tch, amateurs."

He fumbles with the lockscreen and his contact list, dropping his phone on his face a couple times first, before selecting the number he wants and punching the dial button.

-

Dimitri doesn't notice his phone is buzzing like crazy at first. He thinks it's the subwoofers of the club playing tricks on him, so he doesn't think to check his pocket right away.

Eventually though, he takes out his phone after he feels it again and is bombarded with notifications when he unlocks the screen: three missed calls, one voicemail, and five incredibly incoherent text messages are waiting for him to read, all of which are from Felix.

Felix

0:50

Yn aren't you answering ur phobw

I midd yo

Liztdn to yr messages ileftyouavoicnwmail 

0:52

(.

Idnni whatthismeabs but yuy use it all the tine

0:53

K im found going to bed now gnigh

0:59

Dimitri blinks and rereads the messages several times. What?

"Didi, are you coming?" Hapi asks as she crawls over his legs to exit the booth they're seated in. "Coco says she needs a dance partner."

"In a minute," he says, locking his phone and standing up. "I'm going to use the restroom first."

-

_"Hey it's me."_

Oh it's Felix alright, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. 

_"Question for you: why do you have a phone if you don't answer it?"_

The s in answer is slurred, and he's speaking slower than usual. Definitely inebriated.

 _"Whatever, it doesn't matter. This party sucks. I really wish you could've been here or I could've come to yours."_ A beat, Felix snickering to himself. _"You could've showed me your mee...ul - mee...uh - your hammer_."

Dimitri covers his smile with his hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

_"If you wanted to."_

Another pause.

Quieter, _"I want you to."_

Dimitri raises his eyebrows, heart rate spiking in surprise.

_"...I'm gonna go. Call me tomorrow or when you get this message or something. Bye. G'night."_

The message ends there.

Dimitri replays it a couple more times before saving it.

He clutches his phone tightly to his chest, staring at his flushed reflection in the mirror.

He might be in a lot of trouble.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor felix is mortified the next morning when he realizes he drunk-dialed and texted dimitri


	10. get this man a tall glass of water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ('cause he's thirsty)
> 
> in which felix isn't a high enough level to unlock dimitri's backstory yet, but he does get some of his shit resolved  
> for once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter contains:  
> claudelix & claurenz  
> blink and you'll miss it sylvgrid
> 
> some really cute shit

Felix wakes the first of the Red Wolf Moon in an unfamiliar bed and a pounding in his head.

He also wakes to discover that he's not alone. There's a warm body wrapped around him from behind, keeping him trapped when he tries to roll away from the light streaming in through the window and straight into his eyes. 

Just how much did he drink last night? His eyes feel crusty and gross, there are black and gray smears of makeup all over the pillow case, and it's very obvious he didn't wash his face before passing out.

He wriggles out of the arms trapping him, and the body beside him moves, sighs and snuggles further into the sheets. 

Claude is dead to the world, mouth hanging open slightly, and is completely shirtless.

Come to think of it, Felix is too, but he's still in his underwear.

Felix frowns. They didn't fool around last night did they?

He checks for any marks on his body and finds none. Hm.

He checks Claude, too, just in case. Claude blearily opens his eyes as Felix finishes his inspection, tilting Claude's chin up to search his neck last. Nothing new there either.

"Hey, kitty cat..." he says, voice thick and gravelly with sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Don't call me that," Felix says automatically. "I should be asking _you_. What are you doing here?"

"Mmm…" Claude stretches out with his arms above his head and a huge yawn. "...sleepin'?"

"I can see that. What I mean is: how are you in here? The door was locked."

"From the _outside_. I came to check on you, make sure you were still alive. I wasn't going to stay at first, but you wouldn't let me leave because you were cold."

"That doesn't sound like me," Felix mutters. His head gives a dull throb and he presses a palm to one of his eyes in an effort to stave off some of the pain. Claude grins lazily at him, scratching the hair on his chest.

"You're very demanding when you're drunk."

"Am not," Felix says. Then, "What happened to my clothes?"

Claude points where Felix's outfit from last night has been discarded (see: strewn about the room). 

"Over there, there, and there." He indicates the bedside lamp, one of the dressers, and the mirror. 

Felix blinks. "Oh."

Claude smiles and reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Felix's ear. Felix doesn't have the heart to brush him off and leans into the touch when Claude cups his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone. He feels like shit, and this feels kind of nice. 

There's a lot they need to discuss, and his tête-à-tête with Lorenz last night has only exacerbated that need, but right now Felix is hungover and cranky. Any and all serious conversation with Claude can wait until he resembles an actual human being instead of a toe. 

Felix exhales a quiet sigh and lies back down, shoving a pillow over his head.

"Fuck. My head is _killing_ me," he groans. Why did he think getting blackout was a good idea? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Claude shifts beside him, the bed creaking with his weight. A warm hand slides down Felix's back in a soothing gesture.

"I'll see if I can find you some Advil."

Felix peeks out from beneath the pillow at him.

"Thank you," he says. "That would be great."

-

Most of the guests who stayed over have vacated by the time Ingrid drags Felix out of bed for lunch. Those remaining are huddled around the dining room table and are in a similar state to Felix.

Sylvain is destroyed - barely conscious as he sways in his chair, staring into a bowl of minestrone and looking like he's about to puke. Dorothea pokes at her soup with her spoon, and Leonie eats hers in slow motion, often poking her cheek and missing her mouth completely.

The only ones who seem well rested are Claude and Linhardt. The latter who is happily sipping on a steaming cup of tea and reading a three month's old copy of the Fodlan Enquirer, while Claude appears to be making himself an omelette, cracking some eggs into a bowl.

Felix wants a coffee and to crawl back into a hole for the rest of the day, but Ingrid insistently shoves a bowl of soup and a spoon at him. She looks haggard as she takes a seat next to Sylvain, who drops his head onto her shoulder immediately.

"Ingrid, I don't feel good," he whines, pathetically pawing at her sweater. 

She mumbles something incoherent and grabs his hand so he'll stop pulling on her sleeve. "And whose fault is that?" she asks him, unsympathetic.

He pouts.

"Eat your soup," is all she says. 

-

Felix thinks the worst part of his afternoon is his splitting headache and unsettled stomach (full belly lurching as Ingrid drives him home), but he doesn't find out just how wrong he is until later that day. 

He plugs in his phone when he gets in and takes a long, labourious shower, washing away the grime and sweat seeping from his pores. Then, wrapped in a bathrobe and toweling off his hair, he flops down onto his couch with a huff. Charlie jumps up to lie across his chest and make biscuits in the worn material of his robe.

He feels like absolute _garbage_.

Felix remembers only bits and pieces of the night before: drowning in too-sweet shots with Sylvain, his rousing conversation with Lorenz who is _clearly_ not over Claude no matter what he says, getting a face full of Dorothea's tits when they danced together, losing the costume contest to her (he's still pissed) and then….then…?

He frowns, scratching behind Charlie's folded ears. 

Then nothing. 

He woke up beside Claude with no memory of when and how Claude got there in the first place, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot remember anything past losing the contest and getting locked in. His only comfort is that it's self-inflicted amnesia he's suffering from and not a sign of something worse.

He cuts his losses, hoping whatever he did wasn't outside the realm of his usual stupidity, and checks his phone now that it's charged. There are a few new texts waiting for him:

One is from Ingrid, reminding him to get some electrolytes in his system ("The corner store by your apartment sells coconut water, I checked"), another is from a spam number that he deletes right away, and the last is from Dimitri.

Felix feels an unexpected dread settle into his stomach when he opens it, as if subconsciously he knows he's done something he's going to regret.

It's innocuous, a simple, "How are you feeling this morning? (." Which, on its own is very sweet, but it's what comes before it that that confirms Felix's worst fears.

No.

Oh _no_.

_Yn aren't you answering ur phobw_

_I midd yo_

_Liztdn to yr messages ileftyouavoicnwmail_

Felix covers his face and moans in despair. Of course he texted Dimitri, of _course_ he did.

And if that's not already bad enough, his outgoing call list reports he didn't just text, but drunk dialed him no less than _three_ times. He stares at his phone in horror, all thoughts of his hangover forgotten. He sincerely hopes Dimitri didn't answer _any_ of those phone calls, as he can only imagine what he would have said completely hammered, and none of it is good.

Just then, his phone buzzes in his hand with a call and he yelps, sending Charlie flying and skittering across the floor in terror.

Felix debates not answering. He would rather not talk to Dimitri, as he doesn't know if he can handle the mortification of everything that comes with it.

He declines, lets the call go to voicemail, and closes his eyes. Maybe he won't call again.

There's a brief reprieve where Felix thinks he's in the clear.

Then it buzzes with another call a few minutes later.

"Son of a bitch," Felix groans, heart racing as he swipes to accept and holds the phone to his ear. "...Hello?"

_"Hi Felix, it's Dimitri! I hope you don't mind me calling out of the blue like this. I ah… wanted to see how you were doing."_

Dimitri sounds so happy to hear from him that it prompts his stomach to do a series of backflips. He almost misses the sexual aspect of their conversations; taunting The Beast, being soothed by The Prince…

Because while they may have given Felix nerves, at least they didn't give him whatever the hell happens to be flopping around in his belly right now.

Lunch maybe? 

Then again, he was the one who insisted he wanted to talk to _Dimitri_. To get to know him better. He's been getting his wish, what right does he have to complain?

_"Felix?"_

…And he really needs to stop doing that thing where he verbally leaves Dimitri on read at the beginning of conversations doesn't he.

"Yeah, sorry," he apologizes. "I'm here. I'm just really hungover."

_"Oh! I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you then. I can let you go, let you rest—"_

"It's okay," Felix says. It's _not,_ but this is Dimitri, and once he has Felix on the line, Felix doesn't want to get off of it if he can help it.

 _But you do want to get off **on** it,_ Sylvain's voice jokes.

_"Are you sure? I don't drink in excess often, but I know how nasty things can get the next day. I don't want to keep you from whatever it is you're doing to recover."_

"Lying on my couch in my bathrobe?"

_"Your rest and relaxation then."_

"It's fine. Thanks for uh, checking on me." 

_"Of course. I just wanted to see how you were fairing after what happened last night."_

Felix bolts upright at that. "What do you mean? What happened?" he demands. Fuck, shit, _dammit_ , his gut was right _._

_Okay don't panic. Maybe it's not that bad._

Dimitri inhales softly in surprise. _"You don't remember?"_

"What. Happened."

 _"You were very drunk. I promise it's nothing too bad. You sent me some texts, and left a voicemail."_ Dimitri chuckles. _"It was cute."_

 _No_.

"I can't imagine anything I say while intoxicated is _cute_ ," Felix rebukes, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice. "I saw my texts, I wasn't even lucid enough to form sentences." 

Dimitri laughs again, deep and rumbling. The sound makes Felix shiver as it courses down his spine.

_"You told me you missed me. How you wished I was there with you."_

_Noooo._

_"That you liked my hammer."_

"No I didn't."

 _"Mmhmm,"_ Dimitri says. _"I have it saved to my phone. I'm going to keep it forever."_

_Fuck._

_"Don't you dare,"_ Felix says, increasingly hysterical.

 _"Oh I dare,"_ he says _, "and seeing as how you're all the way over in Charon, and I'm here, there's nothing you can do to stop me."_

"Well, maybe not _now_ but one day I'll — " Felix catches himself before he can complete that sentence with: _I'll come to Fhirdiad and delete it from your phone myself,_ "—find a way to get you to erase it." Nice. Saved it.

 _"I'll be waiting,"_ is his smug reply. _"But until that happens, I will just have to listen to it over and over and—"_

"I hate you. _So much."_

_"But not my hammer?"_

"I don't even know what that means!"

Instead of explaining, Dimitri laughs harder. Felix gives up trying to glean an explanation from him and tries to suffocate himself with a throw pillow.

-

Luckily, Dimitri decides to show him a modicum of mercy and backs off after that. Felix leaps at the opportunity and fills him in on the details of Sylvain's party as a distraction. He cannot undo what's already been done, but he _can_ explain how things got to that point in a way that makes it all feel justified somehow.

Dimitri lets him, of course. He listens and answers at the appropriate times, but by the end of his spiel informs Felix that this changes nothing and that he is still going to keep the message.

...if Felix calls him a series of colourful expletives for it, that's between them and their respective cell phone providers.

-

When Felix feels up to moving he peels himself off the couch and heads to the kitchen. His stomach has given way to hunger pangs rather than indigestion, and although it's still technically early for dinner according to the sun, his body craves sustenance.

And Dimitri.

But mostly sustenance.

 _"Nightclubs aren't normally my scene - the music is too loud and I'm not a good dancer - but this year I had a lot fun dressing up and going out,"_ Dimitri is telling him. He's playing with Callisto; Felix can hear her growling in the background as she tries to wrestle a toy from Dimitri's hand _. "It was good to spend the time with my friends. I know I've said this before, but I think you're very fortunate to have so many people who care about you, Felix. Life gets rather lonely without them."_

"Yes, but what if I prefer being alone?" Felix grumbles. He leaves his phone on the counter as he digs through his freezer, having no desire to cook. He pulls out a container of frozen leftovers from the last time he'd been to his Father's for dinner.

 _"I don't think you believe that,"_ Dimitri remarks, shrewdly. _"No one likes being alone. They like their alone time, yes—"_ a grunt, more growling _"— but human beings are social creatures. It's in our nature to seek out the company of others."_

"'Human beings,'" Felix parrots with a short laugh, shutting the freezer door. "Why do you say it like that? Why do you talk like that?"

_"Like what? Is there something strange about the way I speak?"_

"You sound like you're giving a lecture," Felix says.

_"Do I...? I **have** been told before that I'm too serious…"_

Felix pulls off the lid to one of the containers, tossing it into the microwave to heat it up. "I didn't say it was a bad thing. It's just… different, that's all."

_I like it._

_"And different is good?"_

It slips out before Felix has the chance to stop it: "Different is very good."

Shit.

"I mean, I had a professor who'd always tell me that the world would be boring if we all thought and did the same things. I guess over the years I learned it's not always in your best interest to only associate with like-minded people."

_"They're right. There's room for similarity, but it's our differences that complement each other best, I think."_

_Our?_

"What, like you and me?"

_"The general you, but yes, us too. It's why we're friends, aren't we?"_

Friends… yes.

"Yeah," Felix says quietly, staring unseeing into the microwave as the glass container goes round and round. "Friends."

Hm.

"How's school going?" he says, switching topics. "I think you told me before but what year are you in now?"

_"Third. One more for my BSW and then I'm going for my Master's. So… I still have some ways to go."_

"Do you ever regret starting school late?"

_"I didn't have much of a choice, but… no, not really."_

"Let me guess, life got in the way."

 _"As it usually does,"_ Dimitri sighs. _"But it's a little more complicated than that. The truth is I…wasn't in a very good place after I finished highschool. Physically or mentally. I couldn't afford tuition, and the idea of incurring a student debt terrified me, among other things."_

"Huh. Like what? You weren't sure what to do once you left school?"

_"No, I — "_

The microwave beeps.

"Hold that thought," Felix says. He pops it open and removes the steaming container, hissing as it burns the tip of his fingers. "Ow, shit! Hot, hot hot…"

_"Are you alright?"_

Felix sucks on his fingers. "Yeah, I'm good. Just - heating up dinner. Container's hot. What were you saying?"

_"Nothing important. I should... let you go, let you eat in peace. This week is going to be a busy one - with work and I have an essay due Friday - but let's talk soon?"_

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

_"Have a good night."_

Felix tries not to feel too disappointed when the conversation ends abruptly and he hangs up. Dimitri is always so reluctant to talk about his past, but today felt like he was _so_ close.

Friends huh.

Friends don't usually want to fuck their friends.

-

 _"Felix?!"_

Felix swallows up Claude's surprise with a kiss, shoving him up against the fridge as soon as they step into his kitchen.

This is usually what Claude invites him over for, so why is he surprised?

_Friends huh? Just friends?_

He's been thinking about what Dimitri said for days now. It pisses him off.

He bites Claude, splitting his lip open, tasting blood.

" _Whoa_ , hold on, kitty cat. Take it easy," Claude gasps, breaking them apart.

Felix growls when Claude gently pushes him away, trying to placate him with touches to his cheeks, his brow, his hair. Felix catches his wrist, squeezing it.

"You're mad about something," Claude observes.

 _"No shit."_ Felix presses forward, but the pressure of the hand on his chest is firm, Claude won't let Felix get any closer than this. "What gave it away?"

"Call it a hunch. Or the fact that you're trying to attack me in my own kitchen."

"I was not _attacking_ you. I was —"

"Trying to bite my lips off like a wild animal?" Claude raises an eyebrow. "Is it something we can talk about, because I've been told I'm a great listener."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Not even a little bit? It might make you feel better…"

_"Not even a little bit."_

"Fine fine." Claude rolls his eyes and goes quiet, thinking. Felix pushes again, but Claude doesn't budge. "I have another idea then," he says after a beat. "Can I show you something?"

Felix narrows his eyes. He doesn't trust this.

"Depends on what it is."

"Something you'll _really_ like, I promise." Claude says. "It might even cheer you up. Get your mind off of whatever it is that's bothering you."

Felix is not convinced, but he does take a step back and allow Claude to fix his hair and clothes. His mouth is red from where Felix bit him, and while the sight would be arousing under normal circumstances, all Felix feels in his gut is guilt and disgust with himself.

"Fine," he says. 

Claude's eyes crinkle in a smile and he jerks his head for Felix to follow him.

"This way."

-

Claude leads him to a door he's seen many times before. A door he's been led to believe belongs to Claude's guest bedroom (something he's never been privy to), but now suspects must belong to something else.

Claude produces a small key from his pocket and unlocks it with a devious smile. "Are you ready?" he asks. 

He opens it with a flourish when Felix nods.

_"Ta daa."_

The sound Felix makes isn't entirely human. He can scarcely believe what he's seeing.

Swords, shields, axes all hanging on the walls. Armour of silver, leather, and steel, chain mail draped over mannequins. An enormous lance with a blade twice the size of Felix's head sitting in a glass case in the center of the room. On small tables around the display are knives of all different shapes and sizes.

It's real.

It's _real_.

It's like stepping into one of those old pawn shops Glenn used to take him to when they were kids and couldn't afford to do anything but stare for hours at trinkets they couldn't buy.

_"Look Glenn! I'm Kyphon, here to rescue the maiden of the wind, just like in the stories!" Felix heaves the dull sword up with both hands from the wall display, taking a swing with it. It's much too heavy and cumbersome for a ten year old. It hits the carpeted floor with a dull thunk._

_Glenn, a teenager now at thirteen, looks less than impressed, his arms folded across his chest. "I thought Loog was the one who rescued her. Kyphon is just his sidekick."_

_Felix gapes at Glenn and stomps his foot._

_"No! He was Loog's best friend and a master swordsman!" Felix shrieks in offense. "Here, you take that spear and pretend to be Loog."_

_"Huh? Wait, why am **I** Loog?"_

_"Because you're taller and I want the sword." Felix says, attempting another swing with it. He knocks the helmet off a display of armour with a squeak, alerting the shop owner._

_"HEY!" he barks. "What the hell do you kids think you're doing? Those aren't toys!"_

_He advances on them from out behind the counter, and Glenn mutters, "Oh shit," as he grabs Felix's hand, yanking him towards the exit. "Felix, drop the sword, we gotta go!"_

Felix's expression must be quite a sight because Claude takes one look at his face and erupts into laughter.

Felix doesn't even bother to hide his excitement as he steps into the room, Claude's laughter trailing behind him. 

He moves from display to display, muttering under his breath, "I can't believe he was telling the truth."

He spots something from the corner of his eye just then that catches his attention and he gasps, scurrying over to it, hands hovering over the limbs of a bow he's only seen in pictures.

"Is this… is this Failnaught?" he whispers in awe.

Claude joins his side, hand coming to rest on Felix's lower back. "Yeah, you really know your weapons, huh?"

"I've only ever seen pictures of it on the internet. This isn't the —?"

"Original? Goddess no, but it looks pretty real doesn't it?"

Felix nods. "The craftsmanship is incredible."

"My grandfather had it made for me," Claude says with a grin. "For my eighteenth birthday. The real one's locked up in some high security vault in Almyra. It's a Riegan family heirloom."

"You're kidding," Felix says, stunned. 

"Dead serious."

"Holy shit…."

He turns his attention back to the bow. Whatever resin they used to replicate the weapon has been intricately carved and painted to resemble the bone of the original.

"Do you believe the stories?" Claude asks him, tracing his fingers over the grip, then the empty socket just above it. A spot for a crest stone, if Felix remembers correctly.

"What, about the Nabateans and the Heroes' Relics?"

"Yeah."

Felix snorts and redirects his attention elsewhere - a pair of brass knuckles with suspicious looking stains on them. "No. They're just legends. Weapons made from the corpses of dragons? Please. Dragons aren't real. If anything they came from dinosaur bones they dug up in the nineteenth century at the earliest."

"Even if they were purported to have existed prior to the unification of Fodlan? And the people who studied them can't seem to link the bones they're made from to any known species?"

He makes a face, his skepticism meeting Claude's challenging stare.

"You can't tell me you believe that."

"I don't think we can discount it entirely, there's a lot we don't know about this country's history."

"Sure, but dragons? Goddesses? Immortal beings? It's not like they've discovered every single creature that's ever existed on this planet."

"I'm just saying."

"I didn't take you for a believer," Felix says, slipping away from Claude to inspect some of the swords. 

"I'm not. I don't subscribe to the church of Seiros, and I'm not convinced there is such a thing as a progenitor God, at least not how she's described in the legends but…"

"But?" Felix tilts his head, surveying a squared off, flat bladed sword with interest. It looks familiar.

"There could be _something_ else out there. There are least two trillion galaxies, who's to say?"

"I suppose." Felix has never been one for religion due to his upbringing, but hasn't given much thought to the concept of agnosticism either. Or aliens for that matter.

"This is the Sword of Moralta isn't it?" Felix says. "I recognize the crest on it. Another replica?"

"Yeah."

"I figured. I read that the original disappeared a long time ago, but it was supposedly passed down through my family before that," Felix explains. "But that's all hearsay since the sword itself never carried the Fraldarius crest and I've never seen or heard of it beyond old family stories."

"Oh, you didn't hear they found it?"

Felix's head snaps up. "I'm sorry, what?"

Claude smirks. "There's a museum in Tailtean that opened up a sacred weapons exhibit a few years ago. I went last year to see it. They're supposed to be getting a few others, too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Now I know you're messing with me."

"I would _never._ Not with something like this."

And the hell of it is Claude looks sincere. 

Felix's heart races in excitement. If Claude is telling the truth and it's in Tailtean, that means it's close to Fhirdiad. He wonders if Dimitri has ever been, if he's ever heard about it.

 _Or if he cares_.

Felix has yet to bring up his minor obsession (fascination!) with weapons with him. It might be about time he does. 

"Here's the website." Claude passes Felix his phone, and Felix reads over the homepage greedily.

"I have to go there," he decides. "I have to see it for myself."

-

There is a lot to see for such a small space and it's well over an hour before Felix has seen everything. Every area of the room is meticulously organized and utilized to account for as many pieces as possible. Felix wants to live here (he could sleep on the floor) but he could also settle for visitation rights if Claude was okay with it.

Speaking of Claude, he has been patiently listening to Felix go on and on for the past few minutes about a ceremonial dagger he's discovered looks similar to one Annie had given him for their first Christmas together, but with the same sort of vacancy Felix noticed in a number of their other hangouts. Only this time worse. More pronounced.

"It was like this," Felix is saying, "Similar design to the pommel but picture red jewels instead of—"

Claude gently rests his hand on the flat side of the blade. Felix pauses mid-sentence, sending him a questioning look.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but I need to come clean with you about something," Claude says. His tone is even, but there's a frown pulling his lips downwards.

"What?" Felix asks, tensing.

He takes a breath before speaking. "This whole time..." he starts, frown deepening, "you've been great, Felix. And I mean that, no bullshit. You really are something special. I've had a lot of fun getting to know you."

_Oh, here we go._

"But," Felix says, raising his eyebrows, because with these things there's always a but. Claude chuckles and scratches at his beard.

"There's a guy." 

_...and there it is._

"My ex." _Of course._ "I thought being with someone else would help me get over him but we started talking last week and we decided to try again." He shrugs helplessly. "I'm sorry for using you like this, but I thought I should tell you before it goes any further."

"It's fine." Felix relaxes. Relief floods his system all at once in a rush. "It's Lorenz isn't it?"

Claude doesn't deny it, which is all the answer Felix needs. "You're not mad?" he asks instead with genuine surprise, as if he truly believed Felix would lose his head over something like this.

"No? I suspected something was up. Talking to him on Halloween just kind of… confirmed a few things," Felix says. "Besides, it's the same for me."

"What? You and Annette?"

Felix winces and shakes his head. "No, not her. There's a guy." Nevermind that Felix hasn't met Dimitri yet, and as far as Dimitri is concerned they're _just_ friends apparently. Even though they've had sex and they _flirt._ "So it looks like I was using you, too."

"Oh. Well," Claude says, awkwardly.

"No hard feelings then?"

Felix allows himself the smallest of smiles. "No."

"Good." Claude returns the smile. For once it's one that reaches his eyes. "This was fun. I had fun."

"Yeah," Felix agrees. "Me too."

"Do you think Sylvain is going to be disappointed things didn't work out?"

Felix rolls his eyes. "Sylvain has enough of his own problems to worry about, but probably. I'll talk to him."

"I guess I'll leave it to you then. Friends? Without the benefits this time?"

Felix looks down at Claude's offered hand. With a small huff he shakes it.

"Yeah. Friends."

And that, as they say, was that.

-

"What _is_ the deal with you and Lorenz anyway?" Felix asks him, wrapping a long string of cheese around a slice of the meat lovers pizza Claude ordered them for dinner. 

He's feeling _much_ better, and hyped he's had the chance to geek out over Claude's weapon collection. And as a bonus he didn't need to be the one to breach the break up conversation he's been putting off so long! It's a good day - nay - a _great_ day.

Claude stirs a carrot into a small cup of blue cheese dip and huffs a short laugh. "Oh, that. It's a long story. You've seen the kind of guy he is, right?"

"The guy who'd step on you in a pair of purple sequin Balenciagas."

Claude laughs and points his carrot at Felix. "That's so specific, but he _would_ , insufferable dick that he is. I'll let you in on a secret though, he used to be so much worse when I first met him, if you can believe it."

He doesn't even know Lorenz and he can.

"Then… why go back to him?"

 _Geeze Felix, for someone who doesn't like getting involved in other people's relationship drama, you sure are nosy._ For once it's Dorothea's voice that speaks to him, not Sylvain.

"Don't get me wrong, he's not a bad person, it's just hard to undo the damage from his upbringing," Claude says. "His dad is a controlling and manipulative piece of garbage, and a lot of the rhetoric Lorenz used to throw at me was just a regurgitation of the things he was told. I knew not to take it to heart after I found out. It's a lot easier to have sympathy for someone when you understand where they're coming from, without condoning their actions."

Felix tilts his head but says nothing, chewing on his pizza in silence as Claude continues.

"He's had to work hard to better himself, and it hasn't always been easy. Lapses in judgement and behaviour and all that. Hence our issues. But a lot has changed, especially his relationship with his dad." Claude smirks. "Gloucester wasn't expecting Lorenz to start cutting his puppet strings as he got older. Thought he could keep him tethered forever and turn him into a carbon copy of himself."

"He told me something similar when I talked to him. What's that about?"

"I'm not surprised. Lorenz likes to talk about himself. I'll spare you the full details, but his dad and mine used to be business partners for Leicester Pharmaceuticals, before my dad eventually stepped down. I was supposed to inherit his share of the company and Lorenz his dad's. I didn't want it but Gloucester _thought_ I did and that was enough for him to want me out of the picture so he could gain sole proprietorship. He sent Lorenz to dig up dirt on me."

Felix scoffs. "Typical rich family drama."

"You say that like you're not a part of this, too. You're a _Fraldarius_."

"And yet Lorenz had no idea who my father was," Felix mumbles. "But we're the normal kind of dysfunctional; my father never sent me or my brother to _spy_ on anyone."

"Alright, I'll give you that," Claude concedes. "The point is, Gloucester did, and he's been a constant thorn in my side ever since because of it. It wasn't enough that he took over the whole company himself, no." Claude shakes his head. "He didn't want Lorenz to even associate with me because he couldn't stand to see his own son be _happy_." 

Claude helps himself to another carrot, commandeering the bag of veggies for himself. 

"He's too proud to show it, but Lorenz is afraid of his dad. More than that though, he's terrified of being disowned and left with nothing."

"And again I ask, _why_ go back to him then? Why get involved with things that aren't your problem? Why deal with that much baggage?"

"Because Felix," Claude says, meeting Felix's eyes, voice soft, "I want to, and when you love someone you take the good of them along with the bad."

Looking Claude in the eye, Felix doesn't know what to say to his honesty. His attention returns to his food and he remains silent until Claude gradually picks up their conversation and spends the rest of dinner telling him embarrassing work stories.

-

It's a little disconcerting how well their 'break up' goes. Felix is half expecting something else to happen; for the proverbial _other shoe_ to drop when Claude helps him into his jacket at the end of the night, but nothing does. He escorts him to the door as he normally does.

Not for the first time does Felix think about how easy things probably could have been for them if they'd met at any other time of their lives. But Claude is Claude, Felix is Felix, and they both want two different things. Two different people. 

"I hope things work out with you and this mystery guy," Claude tells him, and it's so strange for Felix to see Claude so… open with him. "Maybe you can tell me about him sometime."

He's always been a tough person to read, but now it's like he's allowing Felix to see inside. Not completely, and maybe he never will, but it's enough that Felix is beholden to the ease with which Claude smiles, the relaxed way he holds himself, the way he glows with contentedness from within. As if he's let go of some of the burden he's been carrying around with him from the time they first met.

The knowledge that Claude didn't want Felix to get close from the very beginning is… comforting in a way. He was never in control of how this would go. It was always up to Claude to decide what would happen to them, he understands that now.

"Maybe. Thanks, Claude. And uh… good luck to you, too."

-

The rest of Felix's week remains quiet compared to Halloween and the events that took place at Claude's.

By the end of it Felix is looking forward to putting up his feet and spending all weekend at home. Away from everyone and everything. 

That's why when _it_ happens, it comes as a total surprise.

He stifles a yawn as he sorts through the day's transactions and appointment list, growing agitated the more Bernadetta hovers behind him. She's looking for something to do to help, but there's no sense in it if he can handle it all himself.

"I'm going to be here for at least another half hour and there's not enough work to split between the both of us," he says, eyes fixed on his computer screen. He should get himself a pair of blue light glasses for work to stop these headaches he keeps getting. "Get out of here."

"O-o-kay!" she squeaks, "I'll just - are you sure?"

He wheels his chair around to face her, trying to reassure her with a smile. It feels weird on his face, and judging by her shocked expression it looks weird, too. He tries not to feel too self conscious about it.

"Yes. Go home. I'll see you on Monday."

"If you say so…"

She putters around a few more minutes, gathering her things, and then he hears a, "Bye Felix! Don't work too hard!" as she's leaving.

He waits until he hears the door chime, signaling she's left, before getting up and locking it behind her. He leaves the waiting room television running as background noise and sits back down.

Peace at last. 

Felix opens his phone and dials Dimitri's number.

"Hey, sorry for missing your call earlier, work was busy," he says when Dimitri answers. He covers up another yawn.

_"It's quite alright. We had a bit of an incident here I had to take care of anyway."_

"An 'incident?'"

 _"Callisto,"_ he explains. _"She's teething and I caught her chewing holes in my curtains."_ Felix hears him sigh and mutter to himself _, "'Keep the puppy,' she said, 'she'll keep you company,' she said."_

"But you love your dog," Felix points out.

_"Yes… even when she ruins my curtains, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it."_

"I remember what that's like. When Momo was a kitten, she used to bite through all my cords."

_"How did you get her to stop?"_

"Sprayed them all if I could, or hid them in hard to reach places. How old is she now?"

_"Hm… about three months?"_

"That's unfortunate. You have at least a few more months of this to look forward to."

 _"Fantastic,"_ Dimitri groans. _"Between this and house-training her I'm having second thoughts about being a pet owner. How do you do it?"_

"Pretend I know what I'm doing until something sticks," Felix says, going to take a sip from his coffee cup, only to discover that it's empty. That won't do. "Or obsessively research a topic until I exhaust all knowledge of it."

 _"I think I'll pick up a few books then, before my fingers become her next chew toy,"_ he says. _"But enough about me. What have you been up to?"_

"Working, mostly." He debates bringing up what transpired with Claude, but Dimitri deserves to know. "I uh - Claude and I broke up. I thought you should know," Felix says. "Okay, maybe not _broke up_ because we weren't actually together, but we ended things. Officially."

 _"Oh,"_ Dimitri says. _"Oh Felix, I'm so sorry."_

"Don't be, it's not like it's your fault."

_"No, but I at least feel partially —"_

"It's _not._ It wasn't going to work out anyway. It's better this way." _At least one of us got what he wanted._ "He's happy and I'm happy that he's happy."

_"You don't sound happy."_

"That's because I'm _tired_ from working all day," he grumbles, reorganizing the contents of his desk instead of finishing said work. "You know what that's like, you damn workaholic. Don't you ever take time off?"

 _"Actually… about that,"_ Dimitri says. The hesitancy in his voice piques Felix's interest. He sits up straighter. _"I asked for all of next weekend off, so I was wondering - and you're absolutely free to say no if you don't want to - but would you like to meet up?"_

Felix knocks over his pen holder.

Pens spill across the desk and onto his lap in a sea of blues, blacks and reds.

"What, like _in_ _person?"_

_"Yes? Like I said you're free to say no, especially considering we've - ah - well, you know —"_

_Yes._

_"—and I understand how that could be awkward—"_ he continues in a rush.

 _"Yes,"_ Felix says, all pretense of playing it cool thrown out the window.

_"—but I thought since we get along so well that we—"_

_"Dimitri."_

_"Yes?"_ He sounds out of breath. 

"I said yes." In fact, Felix's thoughts are running a mile a minute. He's already formulating ways to get out of work early next week; feigned illness, a fake appointment, one of his cats is sick and he needs to check on them. 

How many times has he thought about this? How many times has he spent himself fantasizing about Dimitri and what it would be like to touch him, kiss him, taste him—

"I want to." 

Of course he'd say yes, he'd be a fool not to.

_"Really?"_

" _Yes_. Just let me know when and where."

Dimitri laughs, and his relief is palpable through the phone. 

_"Okay,"_ he says. _"Okay."_

-

Of course, planning it takes a little bit more effort than a simple 'yes let's do it' but they work it out rather quickly for such short notice. Or maybe Felix is desperate enough of a fool that the thought of anything going wrong is unfathomable. Contingency plan who?

Which is how Felix arrives at packing an overnight bag the following Friday afternoon, after leaving the office early with the excuse that he's taking a personal day. Rodrigue doesn't even try to question or stop him. 

There's enough food and water left out for the cats while he's gone, but he messages Leonie to check on them for him just in case since he'll be out of town.

It's only an hour and a half to Fhirdiad barring traffic, which, while not a long drive, is still plenty of time for Felix to overanalyze what the hell he's doing meeting up with a man he met via sex hotline.

And to his credit he _does_ overanalyze his decision…

...for literally all of the three seconds it takes for him to toss the bag into the front seat of his car. 

Because at the end of the day who cares how they met? It's no one's business but theirs. And yeah, maybe his safety is questionable considering he hasn't known Dimitri for that long, but Felix has been boxing since he was nine years old and his body is a weapon all on its own.

 _It'll be fine_ , he thinks, getting into his car and leaving his apartment complex. They'll meet. They'll talk. And Felix will convince him that _just friends_ is a stupid concept for what they are.

It'll be great. Just like he imagines it will be.

-

…

It is not great.

It is _terrible_ actually _._

"Fuck."

Felix stands on the shoulder of the highway outside downtown Fhirdiad, staring down at a tire that can only be described as _mangled beyond recognition_. 

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He was supposed to meet up with Dimitri at their agreed upon location, spend the day with him, then go back to his place to have sex. Properly. He wasn't supposed to get stranded in the freezing cold with a shitty tire he can't fix.

"Fuck," he repeats, kicking said shitty tire and pulling out his phone. He has to let Dimitri know he's going to be late because he needs his car towed. Un-fucking-believable.

"Hey, I'm going to be late." he says, breaking the news as soon as Dimitri picks up. "My tire is busted and I need to call someone to get my car towed."

 _"What?"_ Dimitri says. _"What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine, just angry. And uh..." Felix looks around for any road signs. He spots the exit ramp in the distance, just past the overpass. "I'm still on the highway. Outside the exit to downtown."

_"Downtown where?"_

"Fhirdiad."

_"Oh! You're close."_

"Yeah, so I'm going to call for a tow and get them to take my car somewhere they can hopefully replace the tire for me."

_"You don't have FAA?"_

"No, why would I? I hardly drive anywhere."

 _"Roadside assistance,"_ he says. _"But actually… do you have a spare?"_

"Probably?" He doesn't see what difference that would make considering he can't change it.

_"Can you check your trunk?"_

Felix pops the trunk and takes a look, lifting up the carpeting. There's a compartment underneath he's never seen before he assumes contains the spare tire.

"It's here," he says, closing it.

_"Good. Give me about fifteen minutes then, I'll come to you."_

"Okay, sure." Felix says. 

Then, when he realizes what Dimitri just said: "Wait, what?"

 _"Fifteen minutes,"_ he repeats, _"don't call for a tow."_ And hangs up before Felix gets a chance to say anything else.

He's stuck standing in the cold, staring at his phone like an idiot. 

…

Wait.

_Dimitri works on cars for a living, you absolute clown. Remember?_

Fucking _hell._

He takes a picture of his car and license plate and sends it to Dimitri, before getting back in to stay warm. 

Is Felix supposed to be okay with this and not freak out? Because he's kind of freaking out. They were going to meet in a neutral location in front of plenty of eyes in case anything went south, not on the side of the damn highway with Felix's blown out tire.

But with his car in this state, there's nothing he can do except wait and attempt to stay calm. He turns up the radio and keeps a constant eye on the clock, heart racing with every passing minute. 

Three minutes go by.

Does his hair look okay? Does his breath smell?

He sniffs it just to be sure. Seems okay. He checks his mirror. Hair looks fine. Mostly.

He pulls out the tie and fixes his ponytail.

 _Better_.

Seven minutes.

He drums the steering wheel and dicks around on his phone. Dimitri has _read_ his message so that's a good sign.

Twelve minutes.

Felix fidgets in the driver's seat. It's way too hot in the car. He turns the heat down and looks back at the clock.

Thirteen minutes.

This is the longest he's ever had to wait in his life.

Fourteen minutes.

He keeps looking at the cars passing, wondering when one of them will signal and pull over. He doesn't even know what kind of vehicle Dimitri drives. Why didn't he ask?

Fifteen minutes.

He mindlessly browses Twitter, scrolling through a thread full of reposted TikToks. His head snaps up as a sudden thought occurs that he might end up waiting out here for hours, only for no one to show up.

-

A grand total of twenty minutes transpires before a vehicle approaches the shoulder and pulls in just ahead of him. It's a big truck. Black.

Its lights shut off and Felix thinks to himself that if some random comes out and tries to rob him he has his fists and a small air compressor in the backseat he can beat them with.

Felix's phone vibrates.

Dimitri

14:37

Here. (.

He looks up to see the door of the truck swing open and a man step out. Long legs, tall, head of blond hair and— _oh_. It's him.

Felix can't breathe.

His hand slips on the door handle, trying to open it. He manages on the second try, all but spilling out of the car onto the gravel of the shoulder. 

This gets Dimitri's attention. Dimitri who - upon spotting Felix - breaks out into the biggest of smiles, bringing Felix's thoughts to a screeching halt.

Felix knows he's staring, he _knows_ he looks like a deer caught in headlights, but he can't help it.

He's so _big_.

Saints, what the _fuck_.

Why is he so big?

His pictures _lied_. His damn video calls _lied._

He's big and blond and beautiful and he's walking towards Felix, looking like a model on a fucking runway. His mouth is moving and his hand is waving but all Felix can hear is white noise inside his head as his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

"...elix? Felix!"

Dimitri stops within arm's distance of Felix, peering down at him. Felix's hands itch to grab him, pull him close and kiss that stupidly charming and awkward smile of his right off his face.

Instead of doing that, or even saying a simple _hello_ , however, Felix reaches out with wide eyes and pinches Dimitri's arm, just to be sure he hasn't lost his mind. 

"Ow, Felix!" Dimitri exclaims, recoiling. "What was that for?"

"I had to make sure I wasn't dreaming," Felix says, mouth working slowly as he stares up into Dimitri's face. He's actually here. This is the real deal. 

"By pinching _me?"_

"It made sense at the time."

Dimitri rubs his arm, handsome features scrunched up in bemusement. "Okay? That's… not quite what I was expecting to happen."

"What _were_ you expecting?"

"A hello, perhaps? Maybe a hug?"

"I don't really do hugs," Felix lies.

Dimitri considers him thoughtfully, gives him a proper once over and opens his arms. "Well, I do," he says, and envelopes Felix into a hug. Felix goes rigid, emitting an embarrassing sound as his face comes into contact with Dimitri's neck, covered by a high-necked wool sweater.

He has no idea what to do with his hands. Should he hug him back? Would that be weird?

Oh but he's so _warm_. 

And also big. Did Felix mention he's big?

He smells good. He doesn't carry the heady scent of cologne like Claude or the sweet smell of strawberry gloss like Annie. He reminds Felix more of freshly laundered clothing straight from the dryer. Paired with an unfamiliar smell that must be the essence of him.

It can't last more than a few seconds but it feels like forever before Dimitri is pulling away and allowing Felix to step out of the embrace. 

"It's weird to finally meet you in person," Felix says, for lack of anything else to say. He misses the contact almost immediately. "You're bigger than I thought."

It would have been nice to know Dimitri looked like a Grecian statue in person beforehand. Felix has never wanted to sleep with a man so badly in his life.

_He could bend me over my car right now and I think I'd thank him for it._

"And you're smaller than I thought you'd be."

 _What_.

_"Excuse me?"_

"Not in a bad way!" Dimitri hastens to explain, waving his hands. "I mean compact. It's a good thing. It suits you. But if you don't mind me saying, your pictures don't do you half the justice you deserve." He then goes on to add, completely straight faced, "You're even more lovely in person."

Oh no _._

Felix can feel the heat crawling up his neck and threatening to take over his entire face _._

"And you sound exactly like you do on the phone," Felix says, averting his eyes and ripening like a tomato. "Just as embarrassing. I don't know why I was expecting any different."

"Would you prefer I didn't? I don't usually try to slip into character but I can—"

"No!" he protests, a bit too loudly. "Don't do that, that's _worse._ This is fine."

Dimitri grins at him, a healthy glow to his cheeks, lighting up his whole face and Felix forgets what it means to be cold. He's so handsome it hurts. 

This scenario feels strangely familiar somehow, Dimitri looming over him like this. Though Felix is sure he's never met him before in his life. He searches his face while avoiding catching his eye, unable to shake the feeling. Maybe it's nerves.

"You're staring at me," Dimitri says, grin faltering. He fidgets, pulling on the cuffs of his dark sweater. "Is there something wrong?"

 _Is there something wrong with me?_ he seems to say.

Felix exhales slowly, watching his breath mist and then disappear into the air. "Yes," he says after a pregnant pause. "Your face. It's distracting."

Dimitri blinks, the corner of his lips quirking upwards as he tries not to laugh. "Oh. Is - is that going to be a problem?"

"Only if you insist on looking at me when you talk to me," Felix says haughtily.

"Ah, I see." Felix is met with an understanding nod. "In that case, you might want to cover your eyes from now on. I'll be doing that a lot."

"You," Felix says, jabbing him in the chest with his finger, "are the worst."

"I know," he says with a shit-eating grin. "It really is good to finally see you."

This time when he hugs Felix, Felix leans into it, wrapping his arms around Dimitri and squeezing back.

-

"So you said you blew out a tire, right?" Dimitri asks, bringing them both back to reality.

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

"Rear passenger."

He leads Dimitri to the back of the car. "I don't know how it happened. I was driving, my car started shaking and then I heard a weird sound and felt a thud. So I pulled over to take a look and it - well, you can see for yourself."

Dimitri hums as he bends down to inspect the tire. Felix tries not to blatantly stare at his ass when he does. He fails spectacularly.

"This really threw a wrench in our plans, huh?" he says, pulling at the frays of fibre and split rubber. 

"Yeah, just a little bi—" Felix pulls a face. "Was that a pun?"

" _Maybe_."

Felix pinches the bridge of his nose as Dimitri snickers.

"Well, it's definitely seen better days," Dimitri says, back to the task at hand. "Have you checked the pressure of your tires lately?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure it was fine before I left."

"You should check them once in a while. This usually happens when the pressure is too low and the rubber overheats." Dimitri stands up and turns to Felix with a smile. "Not to worry, though. I'll switch it out with your spare. You'll need to replace it with a new tire eventually but it'll hold you for now. Could you open the trunk for me?"

Felix does as he's told and Dimitri makes quick work of removing the spare. He leans it up against the guard rail, then returns to his truck to pull out some tools. "Do you know what size socket you need?" He sets down the tools and a large black case beside the tire. 

"What?"

"For the nuts."

When Felix gives him a blank stare, Dimitri shakes his head with a faint smile. "Nevermind. I'll figure it out. May I have the jack?"

Okay, Felix knows what that is at least. He slides it over to Dimitri as he rolls his sleeves up his forearms. Even _those_ are attractive, what the hell. 

"Aren't you cold? It's minus three today."

"My body temperature runs pretty hot, I'll be okay. This shouldn't take too long." 

_Suit yourself_.

Dimitri looks up at him. "Are you? You can sit inside the car while I do this if you are."

"I'm fine," Felix insists. "I'll stay and watch."

"Afraid I'll do something untoward to your car if you don't?" Dimitri's voice is light and playful as he hoists up the car.

"Maybe I just like the view," Felix says.

"Oh!" Dimitri fumbles the jack, causing the car to jerk. He regards Felix with a wide eye, splotches of red creep up his cheeks. "Um, okay."

 _Got 'im._ Felix smirks. 

Sylvain would be proud.

Dimitri turns away, obviously embarrassed, and busies himself with the black case. He hands Felix some kind of long metal bar to hold, which he takes and looks over, tapping the end against his palm. Once Dimitri finds the correct socket size, it's a matter of minutes before the old tire is removed and tossed into the bed of Dimitri's truck. It's a wonder how he manages to work with all that hair in his face.

"So is this a thing you do?" Felix asks, leaning idly against the side of the car, next to a crouched Dimitri currently in the process of mounting the spare. "Swoop in like a knight in shining armour to save your damsel in distress?" 

Dimitri chuckles, briefly looks up at Felix, then returns to manually twisting the wheel nuts back into place. "That depends, are you the so-called damsel?" he teases, taking up his not-a-screwdriver ("It's called an impact wrench").

"No, but that's what this feels like."

"Mm," Dimitri agrees. "Well, I wouldn't consider myself a knight, personally."

"Ah yes," Felix drawls, "you're more like a _prince_ , aren't you?"

Dimitri colours. The subject of his side job does not come up often in their conversations these days. Whether it's out of shame or embarrassment that Dimitri hesitates in discussing it, Felix isn't sure, though at least in this moment it appears to be more of the latter.

"Neither… I'm just someone who works too much according to everyone who knows me." He screws the nuts in securely and holds out his hand. "May I have that?"

"What?"

"The wrench."

"But you have one already."

"Torque wrench," he explains, gesturing to the object in Felix's hands he's been fiddling with. "Lets me finish tightening these."

Right. "I knew that."

Dimitri gives him a sly smile and takes it, going around the wheel in a series of _clicks_. 

"There we are. Good as new." He stands up to admire his handiwork. 

Felix joins him, tilting his head. "Looks good?" It looks like a tire. Different and smaller from the others, but a tire nonetheless. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Dimitri throws him another smile and lets the car down. Felix tucks his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward when Dimitri gathers up his tools and returns them to his truck.

He comes back, wiping the grease off his hands with a cloth he tucks into the pocket of his pants.

"So you have a few options now," he addresses Felix. "You tell me which you'd rather do. One: we drop your car off at my work and get them to fit you with a new tire. Two: we wait, head back to my place and you can leave your car there for the weekend until you go home and replace it when you get back. Or three: we can hunt down a new tire ourselves and I'll mount it for you."

 _Or four,_ Felix thinks, _you can mount me instead._

"Well, how long will it take if we bring it to your work?"

"It should be done by the end of the day or sometime tomorrow. Depending on how busy they are right now. It's about that time of year people are switching over to their winter tires."

Felix looks at his own snow tires (Annie used to call them his 'snowies') and is glad he had the foresight to get them put on early. How they'd missed the issue with his tire though is beyond him.

Felix weighs his options. He'd rather not saddle Dimitri with the responsibility of replacing his tire for him. The whole point of coming to Fhirdiad was to spend time _together._ They can't do that if they waste it running errands for his car.

"Let's just do that," he decides. Let the people whose job it is to fix cars fix his. "I work Monday so I'd rather not worry about losing my spare too."

"Done. You can follow me, but I'll give you the address just in case. The drivers around here are…" he makes a vague gesture with his hand. "Let's just say if I've lived in this city for most of my life and I still hate driving in it, you're not going to enjoy it either."

Oh, well that's comforting. It's not like Felix isn't already prone to road rage or anything.

He takes the address and gets back into his vehicle, then when it's safe to merge back on the highway, he follows Dimitri's stupidly large truck into the city.

-

Alois' AutoBody is like any other body shop Felix has ever seen; a big, boxy, nondescript white and gray building with several garage doors and cars suspended in the air by lifts. By the time he pulls in and parks, Dimitri is already there, talking to an older man with slicked back brown hair and questionable facial hair. The type of moustache his old man - and Glenn, too, once upon a time - has only ever dreamed of growing.

Felix is thankful for his seemingly lack of follicular prowess (were there such a thing) if it means avoiding facial faux-pas like whatever animal lives on this man's face.

When Felix approaches the pair, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, the older man is clutching his stomach, head thrown back, booming laughter echoing across the lot, and Dimitri looks amused, giggling into his hand. Felix's heart clenches when he hears it - he doesn't even know _why_ he likes his stupid little laugh, just that he does. 

"I heard that one on the radio the other day," Moustache says. His name tag reads _Alois. He must be the owner._ "Pretty good right?"

Dimitri shakes his head. "Absolutely awful. One of the worst yet."

"What is?" Felix asks, getting their attention.

"Oh there you are! I see you made it safely."

"It's me, of course I did," Felix says with a sniff. 

"And who is this?" The man called Alois regards Felix curiously, a pleasant smile on his face. He asks it in the same voice Felix has heard people use to coo at young children.

"Alois, this is my—" Dimitri glances at Felix, then back at Alois. "Felix. This is Felix."

"'Your Felix?'" Alois' eyebrows shoot up. One of Felix's does as well.

Dimitri frowns and folds his arms defensively. "My _friend_ Felix."

This sets Alois off again for some reason, and Felix can only stare as he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes.

Dimitri sighs. "Anyway, Felix this is Alois, my boss. I've already told him what happened, and he said they'll have it done in a few hours. In the meantime I was thinking we could go somewhere for a late lunch if you like."

"Sure," Felix says, sparing another glance at Alois who has collected himself and is now giving Felix a thumbs up. Felix hesitates, then hands over his keys. "Should I pay now or…?"

"Whenever you come to pick it up is fine," Alois says. "You kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

He guffaws behind them as they leave.

-

With that settled, Felix follows Dimitri to his truck. He tucks his bag under his feet, unsure of what to do with it. He'd brought it out of reluctance to keep it in his car, but now he's stuck with it taking up half his foot space.

The truck rumbles to life as Dimitri turns the ignition, and it occurs to Felix that they're _officially_ alone together.

"So," Dimitri says, leaning on the steering wheel as he turns up the radio. Soft, melancholic Blues music fills the truck as he looks over at Felix. "I have a few places in mind we can go if you're interested. Do you have any food preferences?"

"Meat," Felix says, buckling in.

"Ah yes, of course." He throws the car into reverse with a half grin. "I know just the place then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thank you/shout out to tk who helped assuage my anxiety about this chapter  
> after i ran screaming to her DMs SJKSFjkhsd
> 
> (AND THANK YOU TO YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT AS WE PLOD ALONG THIS ROAD TOGETHER!)


	11. nice to meat you sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix satisfies some of his hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone at all surprised it ran away on me again?  
> it'll be in two parts for this reason! Stay tuned
> 
> warnings for uhh...  
> semi-graphic descriptions of injuries?  
> also yes the restaurant is modeled after Korean BBQ

"You told me you were going to take me to a steakhouse," Felix says. "This—" he gestures around the Dagdan Barbecue restaurant they're seated in "—is not a steakhouse."

"No, it is not," Dimitri says, tongue poking out slightly as he lights the grill between them. "I thought you might prefer this; there's more of a variety to what you eat, and—" he lowers the grate on the grill "—you get to cook the meat the way you like it."

"It sounds like work." Felix consults the menu with a frown, contemplating whether he should order a _drink_ drink to settle some of his nerves. 

Experience tells him that he usually gets himself into trouble when he drinks, or he clings to people. Or both. So maybe he should skip the drink and get water instead to save himself the embarrassment.

"...do you want to go somewhere else?"

Felix peers at Dimitri over the top of the menu. Dimitri's expression is conflicted, his own menu bent at weird angles in his hands. He reeks of uncertainty.

Felix is confused at first, and then his brow settles into a furrow.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says with a scowl. "Of course I don't, I was being facetious. Look at all this meat."

Dimitri's hands relax, as do his shoulders. "Yes," he agrees softly. He lowers his menu, smoothing out the pages. "It's a lot of meat."

"And I like meat."

"As do I."

"So there's no problem."

"It appears that way."

They stare at each other.

Dimitri cracks first, chuckling into his fist. 

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Dimitri says. "You are." 

Felix has never felt so insulted in his life. Of all the people who have ever teased him, Dimitri is by far the worst offender, only second to Glenn.

Felix is the opposite of funny.

His sense of humour? Non-existent.

His face? A resting bitch.

So why then is Dimitri laughing at him? Is it because he knows about Felix's fixation with his laugh and is doing it on purpose? It certainly sounds like something he would do.

"I'm not," Felix grumbles, hiding his face behind the menu. On second thought, a drink is a great idea if this is how it's going to be.

Dimitri merely continues to look at him with amusement as Felix gives their order to the server, who returns shortly with two glasses of water, a whiskey neat for Felix, and an iced tea for Dimitri. Dimitri who pulls a small pouch from his sweater and drops a stainless-steel straw into his drink with a _clink_.

"What the hell," Felix says, staring in confusion, "is that."

"What is what?" Dimitri asks, stirring his iced tea. He lifts the straw to his lips and takes a delicate sip.

Felix continues to stare at him.

"It's a stainless-steel straw," Dimitri says.

"I know _what_ it is. I just - _why?"_

Dimitri takes another sip. "I don't understand your question? It's better for the environment."

He thinks of Dimitri's gleaming black behemoth where they left it in the parking garage, ass out, and says, "Dimitri, you drive a giant truck."

"Only because I can't afford an electric vehicle and I need the leg room," Dimitri grumbles, poking at the ice cubes. "And what about you, hm?"

"What about me?"

Another server comes around before he can answer, dropping down various small side dishes around the grill, some lettuce, vegetables and sauces and the like. Dimitri gives Felix's glass a pointed look and says, "Day-drinking?" once they leave.

Now it's Felix's turn to frown. He pulls the whiskey towards himself possessively. "Don't judge me. I _earned_ this."

He picks up the glass with a sniff before taking a generous sip. It's only cheap stuff, but it'll do.

-

By the time the meat comes, Felix is _starving_ , and while the alcohol has settled pleasantly into his bloodstream, it's not quite enough to take the edge off. He doesn't know how Dimitri can stay so calm now that they're together like this, when Felix himself is wound tighter than a clock. He is perfectly at ease, laying out thin strips of beef onto the grill like he's done it a thousand times. 

No, he really does _not_ understand how Dimitri can be this calm, while Felix is constantly having dirty thoughts about Dimitri's hands (such long fingers) and what they might feel like wrapped around his dick instead of the pair of tongs he's using. Although - and maybe it's a trick of the light - the hand holding the tongs appears to be shaking ever so slightly. 

_But that could just be blood sugar related._

Which Felix understands. He gets the hunger shakes too.

The beef smells delicious. It doesn't take long to cook, and it takes even less time for Felix to snatch up several pieces with his chopsticks once it's ready.

They cook together in companionable silence, each taking turns grilling the meat and some of the vegetables. It's rather nice. 

Since Dimitri's not particularly chatty while they eat - he's a self-admitted introvert, he told Felix so - it leaves Felix multitudinous opportunities to admire him in peace. He wasn't kidding when he called Dimitri's face distracting. His eyes are constantly drawn to the faint hint of stubble along his jaw, his long, straight nose, thin upper but full lower lip, deep set blue eye… From his hair to his face to the breadth of his shoulders and down to the taper of his waist, Felix intends to get his fill while he has the chance. 

And Dimitri, well…

_He stares back._

He catches Dimitri several times throughout the course of their meal and each time he does, Dimitri smiles shyly and averts his gaze.

It shouldn't be possible for a grown man to be this - ugh, _cute_ \- but he is. 

His body warms when he thinks of the picture he saved to his phone and he glances at Dimitri again, cursing the cold weather. Were winter not on its way, he wouldn't be wearing a sweater, obscuring Felix's shameless admiration.

Although, the sweater itself is a touch on the small side and Felix can quite cleanly see the outlines of Dimitri's biceps and triceps…

...and the way the material sinks and then crests over the line of his clavicles…

...and the swell of his chest…

...so it hasn't hindered his imagination _that_ much, at least. Felix's mouth feels dry. He drinks deeply from his water glass. 

When did he get so _thirsty?_

 _So how about those tits, huh?_ Sylvain-voice says, and Felix almost chokes on his water. You _should ask him to flex for you. Or see if he'll let you touch them._

_Shut up. Shut up._

Ugh, but they would be nice. Dimitri is no stranger to the gym, Felix can tell. No one gets that amount of definition just by working on cars, not unless they're bench-pressing them. He felt _solid_.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

_Don't ask about his tits. Don't ask about his tits. You're better than that._

Dimitri tilts his head in question. He has such strong puppy vibes when he does that the mental whiplash Felix gets from alternating between 'Dimitri is hot' to 'Dimitri is cute' actually makes his neck hurt.

_Is it possible to be both?_

Dimitri waits patiently as Felix tries to collect his thoughts. There was definitely something he's been wondering and hasn't had the chance to ask about yet, but what was it…?

_Not his tits._

Ah, he's got it. Last week's conversation.

"When you asked me to meet up, it wasn't planned was it?" Felix says. "You weren't waiting for Claude and I to break up, were you?"

Not that he thinks Dimitri would. He's not duplicitous like Claude or Sylvain from what Felix knows about him (well, aside from his sex line personas but that's different), so he doesn't suspect that Dimitri planned it that way. But the timing _was_ convenient.

"What?" Dimitri's eye goes wide with surprise. "Goodness, _no_. No, no," he says with an adamant wave of his hands. "It was something I had already been thinking about, but I wasn't sure when to bring up. The conversation veered in a direction that presented the perfect opportunity to ask, that's all. I was probably going to spend my weekend off doing..." His brow pinches, and he makes what Felix is coming to understand is his _thinking_ pose. Knuckle to chin. "Well, I'm not sure what I would have been doing to be honest. Callisto keeps me _quite_ busy, I imagine I would have spent all my free time with her."

"And if I hadn't said anything, would you have ever asked?"

"Eventually yes. I would have, um…" Felix watches his face turn a pretty shade of pink as he ducks his head. "For my birthday next month. I would have asked if you wanted to celebrate it with me." Dimitri fiddles with the zipper on his sweater, looking up at Felix through his bangs. "A-and my friends, too, of course. Although now that I've admitted it, I realize how presumptuous it is of me to entertain the idea in the first place."

Felix takes Dimitri's nervous babbling in stride, shoving a large chunk of pork in his mouth. Dimitri can't really think he'd have said no, can he? Felix knows he isn't great at expressing himself, but surely, _surely_ Dimitri's learned to read between the lines by now, right?

He takes in Dimitri's tense posture, the way he continues to zip and unzip the collar of his sweater, and thinks, _Maybe not._ "When's your birthday?" he asks, making the choice for him. "I can book it off."

"The 20th…" Dimitri replies, hand going still. "But you don't have to — "

"I want to," Felix firmly says. "I told you before, I'd tell you if it was something I didn't want to do."

"Yes, but that was with - _well_ \- " Dimitri coughs lightly, giving him a pointed look.

"It's not just with sex," he states bluntly. "But I'm pretty sure I told you that too."

_"Felix."_

"What?"

 _"Not so loud…"_ Dimitri looks around them uneasily.

"It's _fine_." He gestures to the other dining occupants who are too busy eating to pay attention to either of them. "No one is listening. So, do you want me here for your birthday or not?"

"Only if it won't cause you any trouble, I know how close it is to the holidays."

"It'll be fine. We do a big dinner with my family every year, but that's not until the 24th. We close the office the week of Christmas, so if all I'm going to do is sit around on my ass until New Year's, I may as well spend some of that time with someone I like."

"Oh." Dimitri rests his hands neatly on top of the table, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Then if that's the case, I'd love to have you. My birthdays are usually quiet, so it won't be a large event. Every year there's a winter festival in the downtown square we go to, and after that we do dinner and drinks."

"Is this with your family, or…?"

Dimitri smiles. It's a sad little pull of his lips that doesn't suit him. "My friends. I'm afraid I've not much family to speak of."

"Oh." Felix didn't know that. He shifts uncomfortably, tossing a few more slices of brisket onto the grill with a sizzle. "It's… more fun celebrating with friends anyway," he says gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not missing much. I have to put up with my screaming cousins and nosy grandparents whenever we get together with mine."

"That all sounds lovely, actually," Dimitri says. He rests his chin on one hand, leaning forward, visible eye gleaming with interest. (Felix once again wonders why he keeps the other one covered, but this doesn't feel like the time to ask.) "Tell me about them?"

"My family?"

"If you don't mind."

"I don't, I just —" He takes one look at Dimitri's eager face and any protest he might have had dies on his tongue in an instant. "Sure," he relents. "Okay."

He tells Dimitri about his family get-togethers, his banishment to the so-called _kid's table_ because he's not enough of an adult to not sit with his younger cousins. How sometimes he will drag a friend - usually Sylvain or Ingrid, or both - with him just to have someone his own age to talk to. 

How inevitably the _adult table_ discussions will turn to arguments over politics, the church of Seiros, or the environment and someone will raise their voice loud enough that Grandma Fraldarius will take out her hearing aids just to get some peace and quiet. 

("This one time, she actually fell asleep at the table and no one noticed until she fell into her cake."

Felix dismisses Dimitri's horrified look of concern with a wave of his hand.

"She was fine, don't worry.")

And then how he and his teenage cousins will steal to the basement to play Mario Kart on his uncle's old N64. Until someone gets mad that Felix keeps winning and rips the plug on the game.

"Normally I'm not good at video games," Felix explains. "Most, anyway. They were more Glenn's - my brother's - thing, _except_ for racing games. It would piss him off whenever we played and he would lose." He rolls his paper napkin in his hands, needing something to ground him from the sudden pang of nostalgia he feels. "I miss it."

"You said he passed, right?" Dimitri's quiet voice is full of sympathy. He reaches out his hand as if to offer comfort. It hovers between them before he lays it on the table.

Felix nods, twisting the napkin. "My third year of University…. What has it been now, four years?" 

"I'm so sorry, Felix... The loss of loved ones is hard - " Dimitri's eye shines with understanding. "I didn't mean to make you bring up old memories like this. We can talk about something else if you like."

"Not your fault," he murmurs, "but sure." His fingers hurt. He lets go of the napkin, stretches them out and eyes Dimitri shrewdly. "You know, I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"Get me to talk about myself so much like this. It's really annoying."

"...I've no idea either, but I'm glad for it," Dimitri says with a smile. "Your voice is nice. I enjoy listening to you."

-

In all their late lunch is pleasant. They keep ordering until they're stuffed, and it's truly impressive how much food Dimitri puts away by the time they finish. He lowers his fork (three pairs of broken chopsticks later) one final time and sits back in his chair, looking satiated and very pleased with himself.

"Should we get dessert?" he asks, already picking up the menu again, much to Felix's horror. 

He's _still_ hungry? Even if Felix wanted to, he couldn't. He's sure he'll explode if he tries to eat another bite. "You can, I'll pass." 

"Ah, right," Dimitri mumbles, distracted, "you told me you don't like sweets. Perhaps coffee then?"

"Yeah, let's do that."

 _He_ _remembers?_

This tickles Felix. He only ever mentioned his aversion to sweets once, sometime back, and wonders what else Dimitri remembers. He has to admit, as he watches Dimitri's mouth form words, reading the menu in silence, it's not fair that he doesn't know nearly as much about Dimitri as Dimitri knows about him. 

There's the surface level stuff of course: He has a dog, a step-sister, works two jobs to afford school, lives in Fhirdiad.

The miscellaneous: favourite colour is black, gets anxious about eating foods with too many seeds in them, once pet a baby bear as a child and lived to tell the tale, can fold his tongue into a clover at will. And, supposedly, can lick his elbow.

And then there are the things Dimitri only briefly touches on: His headaches, his insomnia, his family situation, his sex work stuff...

"I think I'll get the ice cream," Dimitri says, pulling Felix from his thoughts.

"Uh." It's below freezing out. "Why do you want ice cream?"

"I enjoy it."

"It's a summer dessert."

"I still eat it in the winter."

"It's not winter yet."

"It's close enough."

"You're such a Northerner," Felix says with a snort, rolling his eyes.

"And you're not?" Dimitri playfully nudges Felix's foot under the table.

Felix scoffs and nudges him back. He can't help his grin. "Whatever. Order your ice cream then, you heathen."

Dimitri does. Several scoops of it in fact, that he digs into with an unsurprising amount of enthusiasm. His bowl is filled with four different round balls.

Felix peers over the table, being careful not to spill his coffee, curious as to what he's chosen. Red bean, mango, green tea, and strawberry, Dimitri tells him.

Felix raises his eyebrow. "I thought you were weird about stuff with seeds in them," he says. "Like strawberries?" He takes a sip from his coffee. It's a little on the burnt side.

"Ice cream is okay," Dimitri answers, poking the offending flavour with his spoon. "I don't feel in danger of sprouting fruit in my stomach when I eat it."

Felix wrinkles his nose. "That's just a made-up story parents use to scare their kids with." 

Dimitri says nothing for a moment, then gives him a look and says, conspiratorially, "Is it, though?"

Felix tosses the bunched napkin at Dimitri's face as Dimitri laughs. "You're fucking ridiculous."

It's probably for the best that Dimitri is a little weird, he thinks. Felix wants to kiss him now more than ever.

-

Felix decides he'll pick up his car tomorrow since it's not like he's in any rush to go home anytime soon, and Dimitri doesn't seem to mind the change in plans either. 

They leave the restaurant, satisfied and in good spirits. Dimitri suggests they take a walk around the city to help settle their stomachs, and to take advantage of the remaining daylight they have left to do some touring.

"I think you'd like the castle," Dimitri says, pulling on a thick, faux-fur-lined parka he had stashed away in the backseat of his truck as they head out of the garage. "Most of old Fhirdiad is hidden - the city built up around the ruins - but the castle is so big that depending on where you are you can still see the spires."

"Huh." Felix takes a look around, searching past towering skyscrapers and office buildings. The area they're in is home to a vast variety of restaurants, the smell of fried oil and different spices waft through the air. Plenty of modern buildings surround them, but there are no spires in sight. Or at least, none that Felix can see.

"It's too late for a tour today - they're quite long, but if you'd like to check it out, we can see if there are any tickets available for tomorrow?"

"I've been inside before," Felix says as they take off down the strip together. "A long time ago."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm, we came to Fhirdiad Castle as kids for a field trip. I uh - got in a lot of trouble for sneaking into the armoury with a couple of my friends actually."

_"Felix!"_

"What? We were young and bored, what else were we supposed to do? My old man was _livid_ when he found out though. Threatened to come get me as soon as he got the news." Felix huffs. "I don't see what the big deal was. We didn't break or steal anything. All the weapons were rusty or eroded anyway." _Completely useless junk without a forge_ , he thinks bitterly.

"How did you get _in_ in the first place?"

"I may have… convinced my friend to pick the lock," he admits.

_"You what?"_

"Don't ask. Ashe had some strange hobbies back then. I'm pretty sure he's since given up on that by now but haven't seen him since graduation."

Ashe had taken off to Duscur for school after graduating highschool. Having lost touch, Felix isn't sure what he's up to these days. Ingrid might know. They probably keep in touch still.

"I see…"

"I was thinking though… there _is_ a museum in Tailtean I'd be interested in seeing." He eyes Dimitri carefully, looking for any signs of recognition. When he sees none, he draws his phone out of his pocket, showing him the museum's homepage.

"Oh, the War Museum! I didn't know you had an interest in that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I guess I never really mentioned it did I?" He stows his phone away and presses the button for them at the crosswalk. "It's the new exhibit for sacred weapons Claude told me about, although I'm _hoping_ they'll have a Zoltan there too. I would kill to see a real one in person."

"A Zoltan!" Dimitri exclaims without warning, grabbing Felix's attention. He practically sparkles, holding up his fists in excitement. "You're talking about _the_ Zoltan, are you not?"

Felix, caught off balance by his sudden outburst of overwhelming enthusiasm says, "I - yes?"

"The Srengi swordsmith of legend?"

 _"You know about Zoltan?"_ Felix openly gapes at him now, heart racing. _Dimitri knows about Zoltan._

"Of course! I've _dreamed_ of owning one of Zoltan's weapons someday."

A startled laugh escapes Felix, a combination of joy and astonishment. " _Shut up_. So have I."

"Which one?"

"One of the swords, _obviously._ "

Dimitri grins at him. "I could see that. It would suit you."

"Oh really?" Felix gestures to the walking signal and they cross, Dimitri speaking animatedly.

"Absolutely," is his resolute reply. "It's a well-balanced weapon that would complement someone of your stature and fighting style. Compact, svelte, accustomed to close-range combat. It's perfect for you."

Felix blushes horribly at the compliment. "Why, because I box?"

"Do you disagree?"

"Well, no, but…" He narrowly avoids crashing into a gaggle of women chattering in the middle of the sidewalk, winding around them with a grace that Dimitri surely notices. Dimitri's poorly concealed _titter_ behind his hand means he has. "Oh, shut up," Felix says without heat. "Fine. I would take them all, but I'd prefer the sword. So, what about you then? My guess would be either the axe or the lance."

"Lance," Dimitri says. "But given the choice I would also take the sword."

It takes all of Felix's self restraint not to throw himself at Dimitri in the middle of the street.

-

They continue their walk for a time, eagerly chatting about Zoltan and potential plans to see the museum, stopping only to read aloud the plaques stationed by each landmark Dimitri takes them to see. 

Felix feels a lot like a tourist, especially when he snaps photos of the plaques, but Dimitri - a literal Fhirdiad native - seems so excited to read about the city's history that Felix doesn't feel _quite_ so touristy by comparison. 

-

There are many interesting spots for them to visit, but by far the best one is a park that heralds a grand memorial fountain to the King of Lions himself: the founding father of what once was the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

Felix stares up at the imposing statue of Loog - swooping towards him, lance in one hand, the other fisted in the reins of his griffon - with something akin to awe. He can see Dimitri smiling from the corner of his eye. 

"It's quite something, isn't it?"

Felix nods, unable to tear his eyes away. "I read so many books about Loog and Kyphon's adventures when I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Kyphon one day, but Loog was something special, too. Although, I'm fairly sure the griffin thing is made up." 

"Maybe, but it does make him look quite dashing, no? They say rubbing the griffin's beak is supposed to bring you good fortune," Dimitri says, slipping his hands into his pockets. "People swarm here in the summertime to try it. It's quite the tourist hotspot, and the children love playing in the water."

"Is it just him, or…?"

"See for yourself." Dimitri gently elbows Felix and smiles wider. He heads toward the other side of the memorial. Felix follows, unable to curtail the gasp that leaves him when he sees Kyphon.

He's incredibly tall, and as with Loog, Felix has to crane his neck to see all of him. Even as a statue, Kyphon wields his sword with all the fluidity and grace of a dancer. A true master of the blade, his impressive figure appears to cut through the sky itself.

Felix feels inexplicably emotional at the sight. It's the closest thing he gets to meeting his childhood hero as he brushes his fingers against the bronze of Kyphon's boots. 

"Glenn used to tease me for talking about them all the time," he says, tracing the fine details of Kyphon's bootlaces. "Saints, he'd probably make fun of me _now_ if he could see me. But I know he secretly liked the books just as much as I did even when he supposedly outgrew them."

Dimitri comes to stand beside him, close enough he can feel the heat emanating from his body and the fog of their breath intermingles. "I think he looks like you a little bit," he teases. "When you make that —" Dimitri's face screws up in a way that makes him look constipated "—face like this."

"I do _not_ look like I'm trying to take a shit."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Ugh." _He's the worst_. "Go away. Go stand over there or something." He points to one of the park benches. "Leave me and Kyphon in peace."

"Are you sure?" Dimitri asks, walking backwards as he makes his retreat. "You don't want me to take a picture of you together?"

Dammit. He's right. 

"Alright fine," he snaps. "One picture. Get back here."

-

A dozen photos later, they each rub the griffin's beak and leave the memorial. Felix scrolls through them all until his fingers are numb from the cold, unable to contain his grin.

They hit up a few more of the old ruins, and by the time they return to the truck - frostbitten and windburnt with rosy cheeks - the sun has already set. Dimitri blasts the air as they wait for the truck to heat up and lets Felix choose the music for the ride to Dimitri's place.

-

...Where the full force of Felix's nerves slams into him once they cross the threshold into the apartment.

The apartment is nice. It's a spacious corner unit with plain walls, and modestly furnished in a way that makes it feel even larger than it is. It's also quieter than he expected and smells faintly of vanilla. In any other circumstance he might even find it a calming, peaceful atmosphere, but considering he no longer has any distractions to keep him from wondering about what could happen now that they're _alone_ alone, well...

"Welcome to my home," Dimitri says. "I'm...sorry for the mess. I tried to tidy up as best as I could earlier, but between the dog and bringing her to my neighbour and the thing with your car… I got a bit side-tracked."

Felix isn't sure what mess he's referring to, save for a few dog toys on the floor and some papers and a glass on his coffee table, but maybe his and Dimitri's definition of mess are just that different. Dimitri drops his keys onto the kitchen counter and hangs both his and Felix's jackets up in the closet by the door. He then collects the stray toys and deposits them into a cardboard box (appropriately labeled _TOYS_ in black permanent marker) in the far corner of the living room area, while Felix looks around, clutching his overnight bag handle.

He says, "Oh, that's why it's so quiet. I was wondering where your dog was."

"Mm, I didn't think you'd want to be assaulted by an excitable puppy on your first night," Dimitri replies, straightening up with a stretch. He moves off to a side room and turns on the light, motioning for Felix to come over. "Here, I have the spare room all set for you if you'd like to put your bag down in here."

Huh. Separate rooms. _Someone's_ committed to this whole friends charade. 

But contrary to popular belief, Felix knows how to mind his manners as any good guest would. He dutifully enters the room with a quietly uttered, "Thanks," and Dimitri smiles his wobbly little smile and tells him to make himself at home.

The guest bed is a double with a non-descript pale blue duvet, and beside it there's a small nightstand with a lamp. There's also a dresser and mirror tucked against the wall near the closet with a few picture frames on top, and a window that overlooks the city on the opposite side. Felix sets his bag on the floor when Dimitri leaves and goes to look out the window.

It's been years since he's been to the capital. The sights and the sounds are a bit different than Charon.

Louder. Amplified.

Alive and busy, a city teeming with energy and lights so bright they could fill the room in the darkness.

But it's nice. A welcome distraction from the quiet of Felix's own home, his own solitude. He puts his hand to the cold glass of the window and, strangely calmed, finds himself smiling.

-

Of course, when he rejoins Dimitri in the living area, that sense of calm goes for a shit. He's with the guy who's fucked him over the phone, after all. The disconnect between Dimitri's personas and Dimitri himself is keeping Felix on his toes. Plus, there is the overarching fact that Felix would really like to be pinned against the nearest flat surface and kissed stupid by Dimitri, so realistically, how long _could_ it last?

There is no way, no chance that Dimitri is oblivious to this tension between them. Felix could cut through it like a Zoltan through butter. And yet when Felix approaches the kitchen counter, all Dimitri does is politely offer him something to drink.

"I have water, orange juice, milk, ginger ale, and a half bottle of white wine that I don't honestly know if it's still good," he says with his head in the fridge. "Oh, and I have some flavoured sparkling water, too, if you'd prefer that."

"Just water is fine," Felix says, leaning up against the counter. He jumps back in alarm when Dimitri whacks his head with a _thunk_ on the way out and drops the jug of water in his hand. It hits the floor with a dull thud, splashing water through the air and over the cabinets. 

"Shit, _Dimitri!"_

"It's okay! I'm okay! Butterfingers I guess," Dimitri reassures him. He picks up the (thankfully) unharmed plastic jug with an unsteady hand and rubs a spot on his head with a frown. 

Felix smothers down the immediate instinct to check Dimitri's head for a bump. 'Kissing it better' was cute when it involved Annie or his small cousins but is probably strange to do to a grown man who has half a foot on you. 

(What Felix doesn't know is that Dimitri does like having his boo-boos kissed better. Although there are some things that cannot be healed by kisses alone.)

Despite his rattled appearance, Dimitri insists he is fine when Felix asks.

"Embarrassed, but no worse for wear," are his exact words. Felix decides not to push it.

Still, even though it's not his fault, he feels partially responsible in some way. He helps clean up the water spill as a pseudo-apology. 

"Perhaps something else to drink then? It's going to take some time for the filter," Dimitri says as he refills the jug in the sink.

Felix grabs them two cans of sparkling water instead and tries not to snort when Dimitri pulls out his straw again for his. ("Carbonic acid is bad for your teeth," he says this time.) They put some TV on as background noise and sit on the couch. 

And for a while all they do is talk.

Most of it is about work. Some of it is about their hobbies, while the rest is about their pets. 

Felix gets to hear how many people have ruined their engines by pouring coolant into their oil tanks (told with such resignation Felix fights not to laugh), Dimitri's plans for the winter season once it starts to snow, and how Dimitri's been teaching Callisto new tricks. 

Dimitri gets to hear about the patients who have fainted at needles, all the old ladies that have tried to set Felix up with one of their granddaughters or grandsons, ("Don't even get me started on how many of them have hit on my father."), Felix's cats and their antics and what is probably _far_ too much information about his YouTube browsing habits than he should be sharing.

He's not proud of that last part, but Dimitri is such an attentive and nonjudgmental listener whenever Felix speaks that it's hard to be self conscious about it. He scoots in closer so their knees touch, nods and laughs at the appropriate times, touches Felix's arm and holds his hand there just a bit too long to be casual. As if everything that comes out of Felix's mouth - no matter how lame it is - is worth giving his undivided attention. 

As if _Felix_ is worth giving his undivided attention.

And while it is flattering, it also does absolutely nothing to address the gigantic elephant in the room, and Felix wants to scream at Dimitri to stop making moony eyes (eye?) at him and just _go for it already._

(The same can be said for Felix but he's made enough first moves, thanks!)

He endures at least another half hour of this bullshit before finally reaching his breaking point the moment Dimitri starts to get up from the couch and asks Felix if he'd like another water.

"Dimitri," he says. He stops him with a hand on his knee and glares at a spot just over Dimitri's left ear. "Are you ever going to grow some balls and kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself? I've been here for almost two hours and you've done _nothing."_

The shock on Dimitri's face is priceless.

His mouth drops open like a fish, utterly speechless. 

...was that too strong?

Maybe that was too strong. Oh well, too late.

"Felix I - I don't know what you…?"

"Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about. You've been staring at me all damn day." Felix moves his hand up to Dimitri's thigh as he leans into his personal space, the other sliding up his chest and around to cup the back of his neck. "And I've been waiting for you to do something about it…" He thumbs at his throat. "But you won't. Why?"

"I – "

...ah.

It starts slowly, but he can feel it. Feel what Dimitri has been hiding. What Felix mistook for Dimitri's calm has all been an elaborate act.

He is trembling, pulse fluttering rabbit quick below Felix's thumb. His breath comes in short, shallow bursts that wash over Felix's face the closer he gets.

How had he missed this...?

Dimitri's behaviour this whole time, his body language speaks volumes. Felix has been too distracted, too caught up in his own head to recognize it for what it is. Dimitri is scared.

Of Felix?

_Is he scared of me?_

Felix stops before their lips meet. From the hitch in Dimitri's breath, it's clear that he's made a mistake, severely misreading the situation and overstepping his boundaries.

He begins his retreat - attempting to create distance between them - when a strong arm curls around his waist and pulls him closer.

 _"...No,"_ Dimitri says _. "Stay."_

...

He's _wrong_.

Dimitri's not scared, he's _nervous_.

And Felix is a _fool._

As soon as their lips touch, he knows Dimitri wants this just as much as he does.

Dimitri's kisses are clumsy and shy, especially at first, meeting Felix with too many teeth and too little tongue, and his hands in places they shouldn't be. As if his mind is remembering the steps to a dance his body's long forgotten.

But Felix is no better. In his eagerness for contact, for the desire to do what he's been dreaming of and the reality that it is now happening, he's giving back just as impatiently. The need to devour, to conquer the kiss is all he knows as they lose themselves in each other; in the sensation of being close enough to touch, and the release of a tension that has been building for _months._

And Dimitri must feel it too. He gives Felix no quarter, sweeping his tongue into Felix's parted mouth, boldly suckling Felix's lips until they're sure to be swollen and red and _kiss-fucked_. Until all he can feel is Dimitri. All he can taste is Dimitri. All he can smell is vanilla and laundry and the Dagdan cuisine from earlier that lingers still on Dimitri's sweater.

 _"Finally."_ Felix pants, feeling starved of oxygen like all the air has been forced from his lungs. He brushes his hands over the back of Dimitri's hair. "I've been thinking about this so long."

Dimitri blinks at him with a partially lidded eye, his own breaths coming out heavy.

"Ever since I saw your damn picture," he says, thrusting back into the kiss before he can say anything else incriminating.

-

Gradually, Felix forces himself to ease off _._ To replace frantic short-breathed kisses with slow, languid, but no less consuming ones. To give himself a chance to _think._ To guide Dimitri exactly where he wants him instead of letting him attack his face without discrimination.

Felix has never been patient, but he _is_ stubborn. He will spend as long as he needs to teach Dimitri how to kiss Felix the way Felix likes to be kissed. The ways he likes to be touched. 

With Annie, they'd learned together; everything strange and new as they'd fumbled through the basics - neither having much experience at all, and laughing when they made mistakes.

With Claude it had been intuitive, they were already similar and sought from one another much the same things, coming together and apart easily. 

With Dimitri it is merely practice that he is lacking. New partners mean new lips, new tastes, new preferences, and Felix finds he wants to teach Dimitri his and learn in turn what Dimitri likes.

He's selfish in many ways, but sex without reciprocity is something even he won't stand for. 

"Felix…" 

The way Dimitri looks at him, mouth slack and face flush and full of awe when they briefly part does nothing short of body Felix. He's powerless to resist, absorbing the sight for only a moment before he dives back in, grasping Dimitri's hands by the wrists and guiding them from his waist down to grab his behind.

"Here," he mutters. "Right here. Like this."

They dig in immediately, pulling Felix into Dimitri's lap where he stays.

It could be minutes, or it could be hours that they pass, lips joined and then some. Dimitri's mouth is hot on Felix's neck, trailing open kisses along his throat when he's not chasing Felix's tongue, and every kiss is like cold fire that writhes under his skin and sends shivers down his spine.

"You're more than I imagined," Dimitri whispers, nuzzling along Felix's jaw where it curves toward his ear, following the blush of his burning skin. "So much different in person."

"Yes, well…" Felix fumbles for Dimitri's chest (pleased to report it's as supple as he imagined it to be even through his sweater). "These things happen."

He admonishes Dimitri for his answering chuckle by squeezing his pecs, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't mind, and coaxes Felix into resuming their kisses. 

Heat builds steadily between his legs the longer they make out on Dimitri's couch and Felix begins to rut against him like a hungry animal. Dimitri is big and Felix wants to touch everything he can at any given moment. A weekend does not seem like nearly enough time to do everything he wants now that he has this.

The apex of his desire continues to rub against Dimitri's firm thigh until Dimitri takes things a step further, encouraging Felix to strip down to his underwear and shoving his thigh back between his legs. The rough friction of Dimitri's jeans on his cock makes Felix's eyes roll back.

 _"Oh_.. _.."_ Felix groans into their kiss, hips rolling to press himself closer and closer. Dimitri's hands on his ass, kneading and spreading his cheeks apart as he chases his bliss. He feels _good_. Warm and solid and _fuck_ , that's a finger. That is a finger dragging down his ass through his briefs, rubbing and teasing his hole with the slightest suggestion of penetration. Who knew Dimitri would be so _bold?_

Dimitri's grin is wicked beneath Felix's lips as Felix's hips snap back, seeking _more_ ; all shyness and nerves forgotten.

"So, you _do_ like this sort of thing," Dimitri coos. _"You could get off on just my fingers, couldn't you?"_

Felix bites back a moan as Dimitri applies more pressure to his hole. "Are you really doing the voice right now?" he asks, rather than answering. "I'm not - _oh, shit that's good -_ I'm not paying you."

"You don't have to. You can consider this a… freebie." Dimitri's eye twinkles with ill-concealed mischief.

" _Shut up."_ Felix puffs out a laugh and bites Dimitri's ear as his arms wrap around his stupidly broad shoulders. "Don't ruin this for me."

A graze of teeth against his throat is his reply. Felix rocks with growing impatience into Dimitri's hand, panting wetly into the junction between his neck and shoulder. He hides his face, shamelessly dragging his cock over Dimitri's thigh with pleasant sparks that make him squirm. Chanting, "Oh Saints, oh fuck _, oh fuck…_ " over and over.

He humps his leg until his pleasure peaks at last, eyes closed, mouth forming a silent o, as he shudders out a quiet, but powerful orgasm. Riding the waves of it with an insistent and brutal grind of his hips. 

Dimitri holds him tightly through it, his body stiff but voice loose and warm as he whispers breathless praise and reassurances into Felix's ear. He had wondered for so long what it would be like to be held this way. It's better than he thought it would be. 

"I've got you," he's saying. "I've got you…"

"What are you talking about," Felix sighs, not registering the words through his haze at first. "Of course you've got me, I'm not going anywhere." 

Neither does he want to. 

"I know, but I —" Dimitri pauses, looking down at his lap. "Ah, Felix? What are you doing?"

Felix, who is distractedly pawing along Dimitri's leg with a frown, says, "What does it look like? I'm trying to… to… hm?" He stills when he encounters a curious wetness spreading along Dimitri's inner thigh. "Wait. Did you…?"

"Ah…" Dimitri smiles sheepishly. Red creeps into his cheeks. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"You came already," Felix says. "But I didn't even…?"

"...yes. I - I'm afraid it's been a while since I've been intimate with anyone that it seems I couldn't help myself." Dimitri slides his hands up and down Felix's sides, slipping just under his shirt as Felix relaxes against him. "It's a little embarrassing… I hope I haven't offended you."

"No, it's unexpected, that's all," he mumbles. "I've never had it happen before. How long is 'a while?'"

"Hmm… a few years?"

"Huh." Felix plucks a stray dog hair from Dimitri's sweater. He remembers Dimitri telling him he's only had a couple of relationships before. No wonder. "Okay."

"Mhm."

They take a moment to collect themselves, peaceful in the afterglow.

After some time passes, Felix suggests they clean up. His underwear feels disgusting, and Dimitri can't be comfortable either.

"Yes," Dimitri says. "That's a good idea."

(It's funny to watch Dimitri try to walk when they do.)

-

They clean up and change clothes and return to the couch together with some snacks. Dimitri has exchanged his sweater and jeans for a soft white t-shirt and gray sweatpants and looks, for lack of a better word, _comfy._ While Felix has opted for plaid PJ pants and a black tank top he knows shows off his arms. Dimitri openly admires them, much to Felix's pleasure.

They browse through the Netflix titles for a while, bickering over their choices until Felix takes the remote and selects a sci-fi horror series that's sure to give him nightmares, but is far better than the shirtless stand-up comedian Dimitri suggested they watch. 

-

The show is _weird_ , nightmare inducing as it is. Anything that takes place in the vacuum of space that involves unknown viruses and mutations, and creepy malformed monsters cannot be anything but, Felix muses. He's sure he's seen a game similar to this before. He'll have to go searching for it later.

During one of the slower parts of an episode Dimitri touches Felix's arm to get his attention and says, "Hey, this might sound strange, but I feel as though we've met before," completely out of the blue.

Felix cranes his neck from where it rests on Dimitri's chest to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I've had this feeling since you sent me that picture of you," he says, giving Felix a brief squeeze. "But as soon as I met you in person it was like we'd done it before? Not in that exact situation, but it felt like deja vu."

Huh. Felix had that feeling too.

"A few months ago, back in the summer, I was coming back from my sister's new place and I stopped by a gas station as I passed through Charon," he muses. "I was tired from the drive and I needed something to help perk me up so I could keep going. I was trying to decide which energy drink to choose when a young man came up to me and gave me some advice." Dimitri pauses, stroking Felix's cheek. "I remember looking at him thinking he was... beautiful. He left quite an impression on me, you see? And then when I saw you for the first time, I knew you looked familiar."

It slowly comes back to Felix. Fuzzy, at first. His date with Claude… the stuffed cat buckled into his front seat, his empty gas tank, picking up eggs…

Felix squints at Dimitri. Really looks at him.

"You're the energy drink guy," he says, eyes widening as the pieces click into place. _"You're the energy drink guy._ I stopped for gas after my date with Claude and you were buying energy drinks." Holy fuck they've met before?? He feels dazed as he mumbles, "I had sex with the energy drink guy," and tilts his head up towards the ceiling. "So, you mean to tell me," Felix says, laughing softly, "that if we had both known - if we had realized who the other was - we could have done this sooner?"

"Maybe," Dimitri says. "This wasn't that long after our sessions began, and - I hope I don't hurt your feelings by telling you this but - I can't say I was - ah - your biggest fan."

"Oh." Felix makes a face. "Why not?"

"I considered you one of my worst clients," Dimitri tells him. 

_What!_

He quickly adds, "At the time!" when Felix opens his mouth to protest. "Before I got to know you!"

"Thanks a lot," Felix snips anyway, turning away with a huff.

"You got better!" he tries to reassure Felix and his (very!) bruised ego. "The more I got to know you, the more I began to like you. It became a matter of learning what you like and adjusting accordingly. In terms of, well, _that_ aspect anyway. Everything else came naturally. I do mean it when I say I enjoy talking to you."

"But not where sex is concerned."

"Only in the beginning! You were… difficult."

"I was _not_ difficult, you ass," he protests, poking Dimitri in the chest. "I was inexperienced. There's a difference."

"Your inexperience made you difficult then," he compromises. "I knew that you were doing it on purpose, but for the longest time I had no idea why and what for. Until that night you called and…ah...you asked for…for..." Dimitri clears his throat. "Him."

"The Beast?"

Dimitri clears his throat again. Felix suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. 

"After that I understood you had certain...proclivities that aligned with that persona, and it began to make sense that you had been provoking me - consciously or not."

This time Felix does roll his eyes. Trust Dimitri to resort to speaking so delicately about such _carnal_ _matters_.

…

Fuck, now he's doing it too.

"You can just say I like roleplaying rough sex. You don't have to be polite about it."

"Yes, well… you must understand I don't normally discuss these things out loud. To other people. It's one thing when I'm working, but when I'm not it - it's —" Dimitri frowns. "I prefer to distance my real life from all of that."

"And what about when real life and fantasy overlap?" Felix asks, eyebrows arched. "What about me? I could have stayed as just another number to you. Why didn't I?"

"For all the same reasons I told you my name," Dimitri says. He kisses the crown of Felix's head. "And so far, I'm glad I took a chance on you."

"Oh…" 

Felix turns back to the television without a word, ignoring the stupid rapid beating of his heart.

-

It's well past midnight by the time they finish the first few episodes of the show. Exhausted from the events of the day, Felix has ignored the last three quarters of the episode they're on and started dozing off to the soothing sensation of Dimitri stroking his hair with his long fingers.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Dimitri says, gently shaking him. "You look like you're ready to pass out. Why don't we go to bed?"

Felix grumbles and burrows into Dimitri's chest with a yawn. "Only if I get to sleep in yours."

"You want to sleep in _my_ bed?" Dimitri asks, puzzled. "I mean, I suppose I could take the spare room if that's what you really want, but —"

"Yes, _with you_."

 _"Oh."_ The lightbulb goes off. "Oh, of course! What else would you — I'm sorry, I must be more exhausted than I thought, I don't know why I thought you wanted to switch beds with me."

"Because you're a noble host," Felix says, reluctantly extracting himself from Dimitri's heat. "And as flattering as it is, I'm afraid it's already too late to protect my dignity."

Dimitri snorts. "Right, right, of course. Come on then."

-

Felix climbs into bed as Dimitri draws the curtain closed. When he comes to sit beside Felix, Felix realizes how tired Dimitri actually is. While the room is bathed in warm lamp light, the shadow under Dimitri's visible eye is stark and pronounced. He looks drawn, as if the day has sapped the last of his energy and he's barely holding onto consciousness. 

He leans over, presumably to kiss Felix goodnight, but Felix grabs his face and one kiss turns into two, two into three, and soon he's on his back with Felix hovering over him. Breathing the same air. Sharing more than just a few chaste kisses.

Felix is so tired but he finds he can't get enough. He wants more.

But also, he has… one thing he'd like to ask before they sleep. Something he's never found the right opportunity to ask about, due to Dimitri's propensity to dodge personal questions. But maybe now that Dimitri is sleepy and pliant from kisses, he might be more willing to open up.

Felix leans up on his elbows, combing his fingers through Dimitri's soft hair, before trying to brush his bangs away from his right eye. He wants to see his face - his _whole_ face - and whatever it is Dimitri might be hiding from him. But Dimitri tenses and takes hold of his hand to stop him, his expression fearful.

"Please," whispers, an odd quiver to his husky voice, "wait." 

"What is it?"

"I - I don't want you to see it."

Felix flexes his hand in Dimitri's grasp, testing the give of his grip. It's as unyielding as an iron clasp. 

"Don't want me to see what?" Felix says when he won't let go. "Your eye?"

"The scar…" Dimitri says. Felix looks at him oddly. "I'm - It's - it's unsightly."

_Huh?_

Felix doesn't understand. Hasn't Dimitri seen himself?

"Have you seen yourself?" he blurts out. "Ingrown hairs and dirty toenails are _unsightly_. Not you."

"You don't know that."

"Don't tell me what I don't know," Felix says. "Let me judge for myself." Dimitri's grip falters. "Whatever it is you're hiding from me I want to see."

"Please," he adds.

Dimitri regards him warily but after several moments of indecision, he allows Felix to free his hand.

Felix can't believe how much it shakes when he reaches for Dimitri again and finally pushes his bangs out of the way. 

He smothers his surprise when the scar is revealed.

It may not be grotesque... but it is not pretty either. 

What must have been at one point an extremely painful and violent wound has since resulted in raised, jagged pink scar tissue that fuses both of Dimitri's eyelids together. And judging by the way the skin appears to sink into the socket, the eye itself is gone too.

As a former fighter, Felix is no stranger to gruesome injuries. He's witnessed his fair share of splintered bone and teeth and blood and bruises, not to mention the stories Glenn would regale to Felix and their father over lunch (ones that would make Rodrigue smile uncomfortably and would have Felix teetering on the edge of his seat to hear more) have desensitized Felix to the worst of it.

Glenn was always the type to embellish his stories, but when it came to the most extreme of his calls, he never had to. They tended to speak for themselves. It makes Felix wonder what horrors the EMS and the doctors that treated Dimitri had seen. What horrors Dimitri had lived through to sustain such an injury.

"How did you get this?" Felix gasps. "What happened to you?"

Dimitri shakes his head and tries to pull away from Felix, covering his eye. "Please...not right now," he says. 

Felix's irritation flares.

If not now, then when? Felix has bared himself to Dimitri so many times, yet Dimitri continues to refuse to do the same. He avoids and misdirects and distracts Felix all the time whenever they touch on sensitive topics. Never gives Felix anything. Always keeps him wondering.

The child in Felix stomps his foot, crying out in indignation of how unfair this is, while the adult in him knows better, and begs him for patience he knows he doesn't have. 

He has to remind himself that Dimitri doesn't owe him this. _He doesn't owe him this._

His thoughts must show plainly on his face because Dimitri reaches for him, cups his jaw and says, "Please... Just for now. I will tell you later, I promise."

 _...Whatever it is he went through_ , Felix thinks, _it must be one hell of a story._

"For now, I would like to sleep," Dimitri says with an air of finality. “That’s all, Felix.” He doesn't appear to be angry with Felix - which he's grateful for - just… 

Sad.

"...Okay," Felix says.

He leans over to turn off the lamp, blanketing them in darkness and allows Dimitri to encase him in his arms. Sleep takes him soon after, despite the questions that flit through his head.

They can wait until morning.

Or whenever Dimitri is ready to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...I don't think it's ugly," Felix whispers into the dark.
> 
> He receives no response, but Dimitri's grip around his waist tightens.

**Author's Note:**

> can i get an f in the chat for felix


End file.
